


Shattered Shoes

by FizzyLemon



Series: Tales of Old [2]
Category: Aschenputtel | Cinderella (Fairy Tale), Cinderella (1950), Cinderella (2015), Ella Enchanted - Gail Carson Levine, Ever After (1998), Princess Furball - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FizzyLemon/pseuds/FizzyLemon
Summary: The crowd at the foot of the marble staircase was a whirl of masks and golden silk. A chatter rose up from the center of the room as the women were swept up into a lively dance, and the orchestra played with ferocity. Trembling, Ella stepped foot onto the marble floor. She'd made it to the ball. Now all she had to do was remain unnoticed.
Relationships: Prince Charming/Cinderella (Disney)
Series: Tales of Old [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199027
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Faerie Rings

**Author's Note:**

> I felt this bit of an introduction was necessary for the story. I decided to go ahead with Shattered Shoes. The stories I'm using are Ella Enchanted, Cinderella (Disney Animated & Live Action), Princess Furball, Ashtenputel (German) & Ever After. The story of Cinderella has been around for hundreds of years! There are even Chinese and Egyptian variations of it. I had a hard time choosing, so I went with some of my favorites. Thanks for reading!

It started with a wish.

A wish for a child as sweet as honeysuckle and as beautiful as a clear, summer's day. When a wish is made in a fairy circle, it is that much more likely to come true. So it was, when the wish was whispered in a ring of peonies planted by a merchant's wife, a fairy, a very young fairy, was listening very closely.

Thus, Eleanor was born. The girl was blessed with her mother's fine looks and generous qualities. Her golden hair was a topic of much conversation, and her pale skin and laughing violet eyes were daily compared to the fair folk. Yet it was her father's spirit that bucked and thrived within her. She found the nests of Robins and rescued their chicks who flew too early. Mice and rats were kept under her steady hand, and did a wonderful job of keeping the kitchen floor spotless. The old hound in the yard was kind to the chickens, which in turn laid beautiful, cream colored eggs. When Eleanor ventured away from the manor, it was the doe and the buck that accompanied her. All was as it should be.

Until sickness swept the kingdom. It claimed the cook, and her husband who tended their stable. Even little Eleanor was deathly ill, and thrashed about with a fever for days, until she grew so weak she could scarcely breathe. By then her mother was sick as well, and mother and daughter were laid side by side in bed. Eleanor's father wept over the two of them from his place beside the bed, frantically trying to force broth or water down their throats. On the twelfth day, when Eleanor's breath was a whispering rattle and her mother's tears had long since burned up with her fever, a soft light filled the room. A little girl stood at the foot of the bed with tears in her eyes, that fell to the floor as diamonds.

"I'm Lucinda," The child whispered, swathed in shimmering purple fabric. Her white hair tumbled to the floor, and eyes much like Eleanor's blinked away her sorrow. "I...I'm meant to be her fairy god-mother," She turned towards Eleanor's father and dipped into a wobbling curtsy. From her back sprouted twin wings of lavender. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but they're both...they're both going to die," She choked back a sob. "None of the other fairies will help me, because Ella is _my_ job. Your...your wife doesn't have a fairy godmother anymore. That was...that was my mother, and she's gone now," Eleanor's father opened his arms and the little fae child ran to him.

"Lucinda, are you here to take my girls away? Are you bringing them to heaven now, and come to comfort me?" He stroked her hair as the little girl wept and shook her head. "Then you've only come to tell me they're dying?"

"No, no, I...I think I have enough magic to save one of them. It's taken me weeks to figure out, and if I was older I might be able to save both, but...I can only save one,"

"Eleanor," Came the rough cough from the bed. "It must be..."

Lucinda turned and stared at the young woman smiling at her. "My daughter. Not me,"

Lucinda stepped towards the bed, and took the hand of Eleanor's mother in her own. "Why? Don't you wish to try for another child?"

The woman closed her eyes. "You can never replace a child, little one. A mother, perhaps, but never a child. Save my girl. Only let me speak to her once more," Lucinda nodded and quickly moved to the other side of the bed, where she then removed a long, silver wand seemingly from midair.  
_  
Threads of time, once undone,  
Heal for me, this little one!  
Grant her beauty, grace and poise,  
Music, language, her heart enjoys.  
Keep her well and breathe in life,  
even if doing so requires strife!_

As she spoke, she made circles in the air with the wand. Lavender and silver sparks settled over her, and a breeze smelling of flowers swept around the room despite the windows being closed. In another moment Eleanor shuddered and gasped, then sighed and opened her eyes.

Lucinda was gone.

A week later, Eleanor and her father stood side by side as they buried her mother on one side of the fairy circle. While Eleanor was confused about why her mother had been taken, she would be all the more confused when she later found her father within the circle, weeping, and softly thanking a firefly he affectionately called Lucy.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a dove that woke Eleanor. A white dove, all gentle nudges and quiet cooing, that settled on her headboard and called out an early morning greeting. The ten year old beneath the thick, down blankets wanted nothing to do with sunrise and nothing further to do with anything before it. _Wake up, wake up!_ The bird encouraged, beating the air twice with her wings. _The chickens are hungry, Bruno is hungry, I am hungry, the mice are hungry, wake up!_ Finally Eleanor pushed the blanket aside and glared at the little bird. In response it cooed again before flying into the indigo sky. Ella yawned as she made her way to the window and dangled herself partly over the sill to better see the dawn. The hills beyond her father's property were lit gold, pink and purple. Clouds the thickness of pulled cotton stretched beyond her vision. Distantly she could see the castle glimmering in the sun, and as she stood and watched the sound of its bells finally reached her.

It was only then that she remembered what made today so special, what had warranted a new dress and a beautiful, wide brimmed hat and she fairly squealed with excitement as she hurried to change. "A governess!" She said to the little, white mouse as it peeked its head from its hole in the wall. "I'm getting a governess today! Just like the girls in society, and the Prince in the castle! A real, true governess!" Ella brushed out her hair, already well past her shoulders, and pulled off her bed clothes. "Papa says it's time to have one, Gustav," She said to the mouse who was now perched on her unmade bed. The mouse said nothing, only watched her with eyes as black as pitch.

She slipped on her favorite white dress, the one that floated like a cloud when she skipped and was embroidered with peonies and bright, laughing yellow flowers, before snatching up her shoes and racing from her room and down the twisting hallways towards her father's study. As always she found him there, crouched low over a book of numbers. As always he smelled of peppermint and tobacco, and when she folded herself neatly into his arms for a hug she caught a whiff of the ink he used on his hands. "Papa! Papa, she comes today, doesn't she?" Ella inquired, stroking the rough stubble on his chin. He nodded and tried to smile, although it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Yes, my precious girl, she does. You're becoming a woman now," He kissed the top of her head and reached into a drawer, pausing briefly as he withdrew a cream colored envelope. "When your mother died, she asked that I give this to you. I think now is appropriate," He passed it to her before placing her on the floor. "Why don't you get something to eat from the kitchen, then go read it outside," His large hands closed his book and sought out his spectacles before perching them on the edge of his nose. "Hurry on, now. Have that finished before she gets here,"

Ella managed to weasel two lemon tarts and a crust of bread from their cook before skipping out the door and towards the meadow. The usual suspects joined her, several birds and a doe that had recently been spending more and more time with a buck with only one antler, and as she settled down to read the letter she was not expecting the lump that rose in her throat.

_My darling, sweet Eleanor,_

_If you're reading this without me, I'm sorry dear heart. My time to join the fairies in their dance has come. Your father doesn't know, but you were a gift from them, my girl. I went to the fairy circle under a full moon, and oh! Oh, I wished for you! I hoped and wished and dreamed of a child to call my own. That night I saw a little, glowing ball of violet. It was so quick, I might have been seeing only the stars. I wasn't sure if it was God or the fairies that brought you, but when you opened your eyes that first day and they were so...so filled with magic, love, I knew who it was. They shall look over you all your days, and when the creatures of the forest come to comfort you, do not turn away. You hear them, darling. They hear you in turn._ _Always remember to be selfless and kind, remember also to be strong. Don't bow to anyone, my Ella. Don't let your spirit break. I am always with you, my special girl. Always._

_Love, Mother_

Eleanor sat for some time staring at the flowing script in her hands. She'd seen old notes from her mother, or the little love letters her father didn't know she could find, but this was special. This was...this was for her. Every swirl and every slant had been written with her in mind. The doe nestled close enough to rest her darling head against her shoe, and still she didn't reach out to stroke the velvety nose. A fairy gift certainly sounded magical and romantic. She turned to look towards her mother's grave and felt herself sigh as the wind tickled her cheek, as though hoping to pull out a smile. It was true, she'd always had a connection with the animals and flowers. They came to her, bloomed for her even in the heart of winter if she wished hard enough, and she'd never thought twice. Now she did. Did other people not mean it when they whispered to the cats, or encouraged the horses, or apologized to the chickens before killing them and adding them to dinner?

She did.

Eleanor sat in the grass long enough for her skin to get hot and her arms to grow pink, and yet she only looked up from her thoughts when she heard her father call her name, and the doe leaped up and away. The grass tried to stain her dress as she swept it dutifully away, and a mess of crumbs left a dutiful trail for the birds and mice to follow as she fled across the great, green hills. She had visions of what her governess would look like. Many times she was plain, with a hookish nose and great, brown curls that captured the sunlight. Others she was a cross woman, old and sour like the lemons that were sometimes found beneath the cabinets near the end of summer. Eleanor never expected to see a _princess_.

She's a vision in black and white stripes. A wide, white hat has obscured her face, but she can see it in the posture and the gentle slope of her hands. Her waist is a narrow pinch atop a gathering of ruched material. Ella's sure that beneath the fall of her sleek skirts is a pair of shining, black heeled shoes. So sure that she curtsied fast enough to topple dangerously to one side. "Hello," She blurted quickly, ignoring the pang of anxiety blossoming in her chest. "My name is Eleanor,"

The princess turned, and that was when Ella realized her error. This wasn't a _princess._ This was a _queen._ A queen with sharp, grey eyes that looked her over from crown to heel, and a plump mouth that promised secrets and scandal. She reached up and plucked her hat from her head, revealing a mass of raven-black curls so shiny, it was a miracle the birds didn't steal them all away for their nests. "Lesson one, children never introduce themselves,"

Ella's heart thudded to a halt.

"This is Lady Tremaine, my darling," Her father said, drawing alongside to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "She is to be your governess, and care for the house while I'm away," He placed a kiss on the top of her head, and she could feel the frown against her hair. "Go tidy yourself up for supper, and we'll have a nice chat. Be sure to comb out your hair, dear heart,"

Lady Tremaine smiled, even if there was something _wrong_ about it. "I look forward to getting to know you, child. Your father tells me you're very bright. We'll have a nice, lovely chat tonight. Just us girls," She leaned down and winked conspiratorially. "How does that sound?"

"Oh," Ella breathed. "I would very much like it," Her smile grew. "Very much."


	3. Chapter 3

Ella learned quickly that the idea of a governess was more exciting than the real thing. Though she enjoyed sums and penmanship, it was writing poetry and embroidery that she excelled in. Lady Tremaine was a thorough teacher and before a year had passed, what might have once been confused for a child of the fae was now an educated girl who could sing sweeter than a lark and painted such tender landscapes of her home that Lady Tremaine's acquaintances sought to purchase them. Her father bubbled with pride and called her his Lucky Light, and was sure to return from each trip abroad with a trinket or two. Eleanor admired them before and after lessons in the sunny nook of her window, dreaming of the far off lands they'd come from.

Yet she didn't completely bow to the new regime of numbers and geography and piano lessons. Fox kits met with her in the meadow as she tended her mother's grave, and ruined her fashionable new gowns with their soft, vibrant fur. She'd planted a seedling brought by her father from one of his travels, and already finches were fluttering about it, dropping little bits of ribbon or shiny baubles they'd found. The deer joined her with their solemn eyes and soundless feet. As it turned out, what had been a childhood fancy was truth in its purest form. Not only did she understand the animals, but they understood her and responded in kind. The birds taught her songs from places she now knew were Singapore and Paris. She ran with the deer until the forest was better known than her own bedroom, and with her horse she developed such a tightly knit bond that she no longer needed a saddle or reins. Instead, she and her mount were one and they patrolled the surrounding forests and hills as though it was theirs to protect.

When Eleanor was twelve years old, her father presented Lady Tremaine at breakfast not as her governess, but as his fiancé. A week later a carriage arrived bearing two ill-faced children with pinched mouths and shiny hair. Anastasia was a girl who claimed her mother's dark curls as her own, even if her large feet were not situated for the heeled monstrosities she'd arrived in. Drisella was a miserable mass of auburn frizz with sallow skin and a cough that simply would not leave her side. They possessed their mother's dark eyes, which didn't waste time glaring down their long noses at the servants who brought their meals. 

Their little pert mouths held none of the laughter Ella's did, yet when she opened her own to sing they squawked in her general direction, insisting their vocal range was far superior to hers. Older by only a year, they treated her with contempt as they bustled around the chateau, commenting on the number of windows or sheen of the cutlery. When Lady Tremaine and her father were finally wed they gleefully pranced about to show off their new, silk laced corsets. They seemed to care more for the size of their new rooms than the happiness of their mother.

Two weeks after the ceremony, Eleanor's father bid them all farewell with a gentle kiss. It was Ella alone he embraced, and the girl did not miss the look of disgust her new stepmother displayed behind his back.

"It will barely be a month, dear girl. I'll be home soon enough,"

She clung to him as her heart galloped in the too tight confines of her chest. The forest called to her. "Papa, you've only been home a short while. You...you don't have to leave quite yet, do you? Perhaps we could go for a walk first?"

"I'm sorry, love. I am," He knelt before her, ruining the knees of his trousers. "Eleanor, do you remember what your mother told you? When you were both so ill?"

"To...to be brave?" She parroted, confused as she gazed into his eyes. "To be kind?"

"You are loved," He whispered, stroking her white-blonde curls from her flushed, wet cheeks. "You are loved, by the two of us, as long as time exists. No matter where I am, I will be with you,"

Ella sniffed as he wiped her tears away. "She said I'm magic, too," That got the response she wanted - a laughter so deep he could not help but sweep her into his arms and spin her thrice 'round.

"Oh yes, my girl. You are loved, and you are magic,"

A week later they buried him. A troll attack, they said. He'd died defending the young apprentice boy accompanying him. His funeral was a small affair, and she'd never believed so many mirrors existed in the house until they covered them. She wandered about in a daze, straying from room to room as her father's friends and acquaintances murmured their sadness and shock at his passing. Her stepmother was stoic in her mother's chair by the fireplace, with Anastasia and Drisella flanking her like a pair of bedraggled ravens. Their funeral gowns swallowed them, yet even still they preened. It was during this haze of sorrow and uncertainty that she found herself wandering higher and higher until eventually she'd stumbled up so many steps that she collapsed at the top.

She was in the attic. It was cold, and dusty, yet the sunlight filtered in through a grimy window and made the motes in the air dance. She sat and watched them in silence for a time before one of them in particular caught her eye - a bright, shimmering thing no bigger than a suggestion - and she was abruptly pulled back to the memory of her mother's funeral, a much quieter event, and thought of the firefly her father had brokenly thanked. The first tear pushed free, followed quickly by a second, and soon she was a sniveling mess. Her sobs kept her trapped in the room as the sun set and a trio of pink nosed mice crept out from their hiding places. She found herself waking to a full, heavy moon and a silent home. The mice took shelter in her hair until she shook them loose.

Lady Tremaine latched onto her sorrow like a lamprey, eager to pull and destroy the rest of her innocence. Under Eleanor's watchful eye she sent away the servants and sold most of her mother's belongings - including her chair. When she asked Lady Tremaine for a better pair of shoes, one that wouldn't pinch and redden her toes, she found her heart broken not for the first time. 'We can't afford it,' Her stepmother lied as she measured her daughters for new gowns and hats. 'Perhaps if we sold the silver it might get us by. Which pieces would you like to part with?' Ella went without.

Years passed, and the pain Ella felt began to ebb. The tree over her mother's grave grew quickly watered by her tears and warmed by her little form twisting around it. It shaded her as its branches lengthened and drooped, displaying a lovely Weeping Oak in all its glory. By thirteen, the young girl was becoming a young woman. Her loss had changed her innocence into a more mature hope - hope for something better, hope for love at the hands of the people she lived with. Without Lady Tremaine to order it styled or curled or cut, her hair grew wild and as light as the sun. Everywhere she went the mice sought to be, and every venture out of doors brought creatures eager to please her. Squirrels showed her how to find chestnuts in the winter, or shared her hoard in return for a warm nest in her attic room. The doves brought wild strawberries to her palm.

And it was in this way her life was changed forever.


	4. Chapter 4

The forest filtered the sunlight in golden patches, encouraging the wild flowers to clump. Dew made a mockery of diamonds on the thick leaves of the trees and plants that littered the cool, damp earth. Eleanor had risen early to hunt for the ripest strawberries, accompanied by two little white mice and her horse. In the two years since her father's passing she'd grown more fond of being away from the house. Lady Tremaine was too preoccupied with her fragile, needy daughters to pay her much mind beyond her demands. When her fingers were too raw from laundering with lye to play her beloved piano, her stepmother waved her quickly away.

"I don't want you getting blood on it, stupid girl. If your hands are so damaged you can't play, then don't you dare touch the embroidery needles. Can you imagine what that filth would do to Anastasia's hard work?" Ella merely suckled on the tips of her fingers and wisely said nothing about the hideous mess of tangled knots and frayed thread. Every day was much the same, and when she was too exhausted to climb the seemingly infinite stairs to her attic, she nestled herself in the boughs of her mother's tree, or the warmth of the fireplace. Even if she did glean the horrible nickname of 'Cinderella', at least she was already in the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

She'd made quick work of a breakfast of boiled eggs, salty slabs of bacon, oats swimming in cream and thick slices of freshly made bread drenched in honey. Ella was happy enough with their leftovers. She served her stepmother and stepsisters coffee and tea before scrubbing her face and combing out her hair, allowing herself a shred of pride at the way it gently tumbled down her back. Her light blue dress had been fashioned from a pair of drapes her stepmother was keen to be rid of, but unfortunately there was only enough fabric for sleeves that rested at her elbows, and a skirt that kept itself just below her knees. The few holes it boasted were easily covered by her apron.

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she went barefoot.

She had gathered a fairly decent amount of wild mushrooms and was valiantly following the direction of the mice (and the odd squirrel) who put in their two cents when it came to strawberries, when she heard a horrified scream and the mad clatter of hooves. She whirled around for the source, and was nearly blindsided by an anxious stallion barreling past. "Wait," Ella called to it, urging her own mount forward. The mare beneath her trembled as they lurched into a gallop. "Stop! You're frightening him!" From the look of the horse's limp, it would be stopping soon anyway. At her urgent command though, it stumbled to an uneasy halt and its rider fell. Ella fairly flew to his side, her heart lurching at the idea of discovering a body. With both horses quietly standing off to the side, the larger chestnut favoring his hind left, the young girl knelt to see who's death she might have witnessed.

Instead, the ashen face of an unconscious boy greeted her. There was a cut on his forehead, most likely from his tumble, and the blood dripped in his ear. She smoothed his auburn hair from it and he turned toward her touch, groaning. He couldn't be much older than she was, maybe fifteen, and his clothes were an odd assortment of things that fit and things that didn't. Ella hadn't felt that anyone was a kindred spirit until she saw the patches on his too short pants, and the way his sleeves swallowed his hands. Ever so carefully she settled down beside him and pulled his head onto her lap. "Hush now, you're safe," She murmured, humming to him the way she remembered her mother doing when she was ill.

She kept the boy half awake for the better part of the morning, well until the day was getting warm. Ella sang and wiped his face clean with handfuls of water from the nearby stream. When he finally did fully wake, bleary eyed and wincing, she helped him drink until he could take a good look at her. Then she granted him a smile.

"I thought you'd never wake up. How do you feel?"

"S-sore," He mumbled, rubbing at the egg-sized lump on his head. "Where am I?"

"You're in the forest, about six miles from the main town. What's your name?" She asked, helping him gently to his feet. "Do you know where you live?"

"Ah, I...I think so?" His expression clouded as she helped him onto her horse and mounted behind him. With a quick whistle she summoned the stallion, who plodded dutifully behind them. "I...I live in...my father works in...the castle?"

"Really? The castle?" She frowned at his clothes. "Well, I suppose they have people to clean there as well. Or maybe you worked in the stables?"

"Hunter," He said, slumping against her. She gently shook him awake. "My name, um, I'm Hunter,"

"You can't sleep, Hunter," Ella encouraged. "You hit your head pretty hard. I'm Eleanor,"

"Eleanor?"

"Mhm. I live nearby. Come on, we'll get you to the castle. If you father works there, then he can get you safely home,"

They had to go slowly, which meant it took longer to get into the center of town than she'd like. She made pointless chatter to keep the boy awake, and although his head lolled against her he mumbled responses when they were necessary. Every now and then she chastised the horse plodding behind them. Its head hung sorrowfully, grieved by its behavior. Although it didn't say a word in reply, she knew the guilt would likely last for years.

As they entered the town, Eleanor began to draw the eyes of those in the market. Wives paused to look at the golden haired young lady who sat straight as an arrow on her small mare. The baker and cobbler took a closer glance at the boy slumped in her arms, with a streak of crimson along the side of his face and matting his hair. The children whispered feverishly about the limping horse that followed them without a lead, and when Ella directed their path towards the castle the crowd flocked behind them. Ever so carefully Ella walked them up to the nearest guard, who immediately drew his sword.

"Please, sir, I need to speak with someone in the castle. Hunter was out riding and I -" She cried out in surprise as a guard she hadn't seen pulled her roughly from atop the horse, nearly toppling Hunter as well. All at once it was a calamity. Guards rushed forward to seize not only Hunter's horse, but her own! One of them held her roughly by the wrist while two others lifted Hunter into their arms and made their way over past the gates and into the castle. "Wait! He's hurt! He fell from the horse and hit his head on something!"

"What did you want with him? Was it you who lured him into the woods?"

"Lured him? No, sir, you don't understand. I saw Hunter riding by on his horse, and it threw him and I -"

The blow to her cheek stung madly, and she tasted the acrid bite of blood that welled in her mouth. She'd never been hit so forcefully, and for a moment she wasn't sure whether it was her skin or her pride that was more deeply wounded.

"Who is it you're working for? Were you hoping for a reward?"

Ella struggled to make sense of his words. All at once her vision swam through a veil of tears and she found everything spinning. Were it not for the man's horrible grip on her arm she might have fallen right there. "N-no, I found him...found him riding..." The girl slurred, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Lady Tremaine would be so angry! If she were imprisoned, she might never see her home again! What would the animals do without her? Mother's tree would wither and die and...and...

It was too much. Darkness swallowed the face of the now befuddled guard, and her lithe body slumped in his arms.

* * *

"Eleanor? Ella, darling, you must wake up now," The voice was gentle and not completely foreign. It pulled her from the blackness of her unconscious mind, and when she came to she found herself in an expansive kitchen. Women hurried here and there with bowls and pots and steaming trays. A roaring fire blackened several chicken carcasses, which a young boy was half-heartedly spinning. The fat dripping into the flames hissed and spattered on his arms occasionally to wake him. Above her head hung sprigs of dried herbs and flowers; some reserved for tea and others for the apothecary. The woman kneeling beside her was bespeckled in flour and dried flakes of dough. Her kind eyes were met by her smile.

"Where am I?" Ella asked, sitting up on a thin cot placed close to the hearth. A kettle whistled nearby and a sour faced woman plucked it from the coals with her bare hands.

"The castle kitchen. I was just coming from the market when I heard the commotion outside the gates. You're lucky I walked up when I did. I was able to give them your name, and the name of your father, and put things right again. He was always happy to supply the kitchen with whatever we needed. Who was it you brought back, dear?" She passed Ella a small, half-burned tart and a mug of sharp cider, which she was quick to devour.

"A boy. One of the castle hunters' boys, I think. His horse had an injured leg and threw him," She sipped at the cider. "Do you know if he's alright?"

"Right as rain, lamb. I was told to give this to you," The baker woman brought out a small, golden ring and pressed it into her palm. "For you, and no one else. That boy is much beloved here, and isn't supposed to leave the castle grounds. I let them know about your stepmother, and that she might be angry for you being gone so long, and got this as well," She handed her a small bag of coins, which Ella merely stared at. A gold ring _and_ five gold coins?

"For returning a servant's son? This...this is too much..." She tried to pass it back, but the woman shook her head.

"You will tell Lady Tremaine you recognized the insignia of the Crown on the horse's saddle, and thought it might be a thief. You brought the boy and the horse back to the castle, and this was your reward. Do you understand?"

Ella nodded.

"Right then. Let's get you home,"


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't hard to find Hunter again. A week later he found her when she was gathering wild herbs for a soup, and surprised her with a bouquet of magnificent flowers. "As thanks," He'd said, when she blushed and stammered and curtsied out her embarrassment. "You most likely saved my life."

Their friendship blossomed naturally.

As the years passed, they met weekly in the forest and surrounding fields. Ella was sure to slip away when she was least likely to be noticed - a party at the chateau, or when dawn was scattering fingers of gold and crimson at the horizon. At first they simply made idle chatter. Ella shared the stories she'd learned as a child, and sang to him in the many languages she'd learned. He made whistles and bows from the saplings, and climbed the trees to bring down apples and other treats. They played in the stream when the weather allowed, and made small fires to roast chestnuts that the squirrels brought to her.

"I'll never hunt another squirrel as long as I live," The awed young man promised as one made a comfortable bed in the folds of his too big shirt.

It was when Ella was fifteen that the gypsies first came, trailing swirls of incense and purple silk ribbons. They encouraged gossip in the town with their bare feet and wild hair. They told the fortunes of the young wives, predicting the number of children and loyalty of their spouses; on market days the blonde girl was the first to spy them selling exotic spices and palm readings. It made her heart twist with longing - some of them reminded her of her father after a long journey.

One night, when the moon was swollen and full and casting its blue blanket over the fields, Ella heard music. Having chosen her bed by the hearth rather than climb the never-ending stairs to her attic hideaway, it was easy to slip out of the kitchen without making a sound. Her dress was threadbare and aching to be patched, her feet were blackened by coal and dirt, and her hair was a mad tangle around her pale face, yet she found herself dancing to a tune unlike any she'd heard before. The melody was at once lively and melancholy, and drew her easier than a skein of gold might have.

There, around her mother's tree, was a circle made of people. The gypsies whirled about the tree, which they'd lit with candles and strung full of colored glass. It looked like a handful of fireflies were joining in the fun, and hummed lightly around a man strumming a mandolin, and another on a pan flute. Her steps were light as she neared them, as though if she wasn't careful she might break some kind of spell. The men were eyeing the women with a grin as they lured them with their spinning skirts. Children ran through the legs of the dancers, chasing a bright yellow, wooden ball one clutched in her tiny hands.

"H-hello," Ella said, not wanting to scare them.

At once the dancing stopped. The children pulled to a halt before bolting to their mothers and fathers.

"Who are you?" A woman with raven hair stepped from beneath the hanging branches, lifting her skirts only to reveal bare feet wrapped in vibrant, black tattoos. "One of the urchins from the village, come to cheat us of our hard earned coin?" The others laughed.

"No," She pushed her hair behind her ears and pulled her back a little straighter. "I live in the house there," She pointed. "You can see the attic from here. I heard your music,"

"You did, did you? Then you've come to tell us to leave," The woman's green eyes narrowed.

"Actually, I've come to ask if I might join your dance," She stepped closer, emboldened by the mere presence of the graves of her parents. Now she could see the fairy ring was in bloom, and the footwork of the dancers merely circled it. Every flower was intact. "This is my mother's tree. She lays there, and my father beside her," Ella smiled. "Have they made you welcome?"

Suddenly everyone looked ill at ease. The woman approached her and frowned, before reaching out to stroke her cheek. "We were called by the magic here. We were so glad, we didn't feel the sorrow. Are we welcome, then?" A heart beat. Two. "The choice is yours, and yours alone,"

The girl beamed. "If you can feel the magic, then you are welcome. I'm Ella,"

The woman took her hand. "I am Mira. Come, Ella, I will teach you the dance of moon and the sun,"

They danced for the night, sharing laughter and stories. Eleanor was certain she saw mice whisking in between the feet as they stomped the rich, dark earth. As the moon hid behind the horizon and dawn began to peek its face above the hills, Mira drew her beneath the boughs of the tree. "This tree is more special than you realize. Here, reach your hand up," When the girl did, Mira gave the tree a little knock with her fist. Into Ella's hand plopped an acorn. It was brighter than normal, and without any effort at all the top came off like a cap. "A gift, then, from your mother and father. For being such a kind girl,"

Ella wasn't sure if it was her imagination, or if she saw Mira whispering with the fireflies as she ran back to her place by the fire.

After realizing the acorn was magically inclined, Ella found it quite handy. Within it she stored the golden ring she'd been gifted for returning Hunter, as well as several other small trinkets belonging to her parents. To retrieve them she merely had to pop off the top and shake what she wanted into her palm. When Lady Tremaine and the girls snooped through her room for things to confiscate or sell, all they turned up was a handful of acorns, usually tucked deep into a squirrel's nest. Neither girl liked the threat of the 'vermin' bites, and soon they stopped trespassing. Apparently ' _Cinderella'_ was too good for secrets.

It didn't take her long to convince Hunter to join them in their evening dances. He looked ill at ease around so many travelers, but soon enough he relaxed enough to learn their language - as Ella had. They slipped into the caravan easily, joining them nightly to share stories and riddles well until sunrise. Ella learned their secrets to cooking the perfect soup to relax the soul, and Hunter learned more than one way of whispering her into blushing scarlet. One night, not long after Ella was sixteen, Hunter presented her with a priceless gift. The gypsies had a wagon they were willing to rent to the couple while they were in the area, and more than happy to part with permanently if the duo decided to leave with them.

Together they fixed it up and added their own assortment of cushions and blankets and curtains. Eleanor kept a spare skirt she'd fashioned out of discarded fabric from her step family's clothes, and an odd assortment of dented jewelry others had cast aside. Hunter stored maps and spare trousers, and kept filling the space with bouquets he brought to her eager hands. When he first requested a kiss, it was easy to allow it. The sensation was not unlike diving headfirst into a cold pond. Although their passions never moved far from kisses, they were left breathless staring at the midnight sky and dwelling on their future together.

She wasn't planning to break curfew. They'd both wanted just a small nap, one wrapped in each other's embrace, and the wind had whistled merrily through the trees and lulled them into the promise of easy rest. It seemed the sun rose quick and hot that day, so much so that it was the frantic travelers who woke them and pushed them on their way. By the time Ella was changed and running in the opposite direction as Hunter's horse, the caravan was rumbling away. Each knew to expect a punishment at home - Hunter was nearly white with fear - and Ella was not looking forward to whatever awaited her at the hands of her stepmother.

A whip was not in her expectations.

She hadn't been expecting to be lashed to a bedpost with her arms bound above her head. At first she'd thought it merely a new test to endure, until Anastasia split her dress with a knife, and exposed the bare flesh of her back. When the first white-hot crack of the twisted leather bit, she couldn't help but scream. "How dare you mock me in this way?" Lady Tremaine demanded, felling another blow. "Where are you going at night? Who are you with?" Every moment of silence was a stinging blow that pushed the very air from her lungs. Only when she could endure it no longer, only when she cried _"The glade!"_ and collapsed in a heap of blood and tears, did her Anastasia and Drisella drag her upstairs and lock her in the attic.

She slept for three days.

When she finally found the strength to descend, it was to cool indifference. Acting like nothing was amiss, they poured out the demands as usual. She shook out curtains and mended gowns. An elaborate dinner was prepared and baths were drawn. She boiled water to scrub the floors and dusted every trinket her stepmother deemed necessary to acquire. As she was polishing Lady Tremaine's beautiful, red shoes their owner paused beside her.

"A guest is coming for supper. You will clean yourself and join us. The kitchen help will serve tonight,"

 _'Perhaps all has been forgiven...'_ She thought as she ventured to the stream to scrub her arms and legs. The sand and grit helped to wash away the filth of the day, and the cold water left her hair glistening gold. _'Perhaps it's her way of apologizing,'_ She found a slender, pink gown lying on her bed upstairs and her heart soared. It looked worn, but the holes could be patched. It likely belonged to Anastasia or Drisella when they were much, much younger.

She spent the latter part of the day adjusting the fit, adding bows and a thick ribbon sash to hide bits that were worn away. The scooped collar wasn't quite the height of fashion, but at least it didn't require a corset. The skirt was long enough to sweep the floor, so matching shoes were hardly required. The black ones she wore to town would be just fine. Adding a string of glass beads she'd found in the garden was her finishing touch, and with that she hurried downstairs.

"Eleanor, darling, this is Mr. Crouch," Lady Tremaine's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Now, now, don't be shy,"

It wasn't bashfulness that seized her tongue and halted her at the bottom step. It was the sight of a troll in her father's home. He was easily seven feet tall, and his thick arms were squeezed into a too-tight shirt. Blotches of brown be-speckled his skin where scabs didn't, and he leered down at her, delightedly displaying razor sharp teeth. She'd heard whispers of trolls and goblins and magical things in faraway lands. It was said they ran the silver mines, as they thrived in the dank and the dark and the damp. The smell of old eggs and a sickly sweet hint of rot turned her stomach.

The hideous man gave a croaking laugh and rang his hat between yellowed hands. "Does she speak?"

"She sings, and speaks several languages," Now that the pretense was gone, Lady Tremaine's voice went cold and matter-of-fact. "She's strong. Your children would be well bred,"

Ella felt the blood drain from her face.

"Strong? She looks sick," Was he really a man? Aged beyond guessing, Mr. Crouch stomped towards her. Ella found herself holding her breath. "Pretty, though."

"She survived the illness that took more than half of the household. The grey death lingered here for some time," Her stepmother sniffed and motioned toward the dining room, where Anastasia and Drisella were already seated. Their mirrored Cheshire grins brought tears to her eyes. "Now, she is a great boon to my household. Was the agreed upon price still in effect?"

"Yes, yes, quite strong. Fifty cartloads of silver," He reached to take her hand and Ella recoiled. "You'll get used to your husband soon, little one. Very soon,"

The words rang in her head until she thought she might be sick. The meal she'd made earlier - roasted pheasant, boiled purple potatoes, leek soup with garlic and butternut squash - went uneaten. It grew cold before the kitchen maids took it away, glancing from her full portions to the guest seated at Lady Tremaine's right hand. They discussed Ella's engagement like a business deal. By the end of dessert - a cloud of meringue floating on a lemon tart - the golden haired girl felt like cattle. It was a relief when he finally left, hardly seeming to care that she hadn't said a word of encouragement. Not even a thank you had passed her trembling lips.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Lady Tremaine seemed to ask the door, not yet bothering to turn in her direction.

"I-I hardly...I hardly know..." Ella breathed for the first time. "I'm sorry, step mother. I truly am. I won't leave again, I swear it,"

"Oh yes, you will," Anastasia hissed from behind. "You'll leave with that filth, and make us all the richer," She cackled and tugged on one of the bright, full bows.

"Stop it!"

"Are you really thinking to order us about?" Drisella approached with narrowed eyes. "How dare you? You little harlot!" She quickly mirrored her sister's actions, pulling one bow entirely out of its stitches.

"You're nothing," Anastasia spat, pulling forcefully at the sash.

"Unwanted," Drisella chimed, twisting her fingers into the beaded necklace. " _Alone,_ "

Ella cried out as the strand snapped and glass beads shattered on the tile. "Please, I'm sorry," Were they going to kill her?

Her stepsisters seemed emboldened by the destruction, and eagerly carried on. Every now and then a slap was delivered, or a shove. Finally Ella found herself sprawled on the floor in pink tatters. She was drowning in a sea of silk and broken glass, and hoped that by wrapping her arms around her shaking shoulders she might hold herself together.

"You're nothing but a filthy, ungrateful child out to ruin her family name," Lady Tremaine finally said, striding toward her. The colorful beads snapped under her shining, red heels. "You are under foot, worthless and good for nothing more than a quick marriage," She bent so that their noses were nearly touching. "Only the vermin would ever accept you, _Cinderella_ , and that's because they might find a way to make a bit of coin off of you. Now get up to your room, and stay put," She obeyed without a whisper of complaint, gathering what remained of such a pretty dress for some semblance of modesty.

When she was finally in the safety of the attic she let loose her sobs and took to pacing the room's length. A little round window did little more than let in sunlight, but she called whatever bird might be listening. When a sweet, white dove alighted on the sill she hopefully gifted it with kisses and whispered her plea for escape. The bird was so horrified by the mere mention of a troll that she took wing and flew to the safety of the meadow. Ella knew she had to get away before morning.

She waited for the night to grow dark before snatching up the acorns shed from her mother's tree. Although they weren't full of much, some of it might be valuable enough to get her to the next town. Discarding the bits of fabric that remained, she changed instead into a simple brown dress she kept for heavier cleaning. It was formless and ill-fitted, and made her look ever younger than her years. After quickly wrapping her golden hair in a length of linen to hide its shine, she turned to leave. Yet when she pulled on the door, she found it locked from the outside. Ella pulled and pushed, and was nearly about to give up when it suddenly clicked open. There, just on the other side, was a girl much like herself. Fluffs of white curls framed her sweet, heart shaped face. Her gown was either silver or purple from the way it shimmered, but for all Ella was aware it might have been moonlight. Lavender eyes were full of tears, and on her back fluttered the most breathtaking gossamer wings.

"Hush now, Ella. Come, sweet girl. I've come to free you," The fae girl embraced her, and at once Ella could smell sunlight and freshly cut grass. Then roses and poppies and lavender and peppermint and - The girl pulled away with a smile, and gently wiped her face with a small, white cloth. At once the swelling from her earlier blows vanished, and she felt as clean as she did when swimming with Hunter. "I'm so sorry, dear heart. I truly thought things might get better. Come, quickly, before the poppy dust wears off," With that they were flying down the staircase and out across the grounds. They didn't stop until they came to her Mother's tree, and the fae helped her climb high into the branches. With every bit of exposed skin the girl wiped it with the cloth, and any wounds were miraculously healed.

"Call, quickly, for your mother and father. I won't be able to hold them for long,"

"What? What are you talking about I -"

"Quickly!" The girl drew her hand through the air and was rewarded with a slender, silver wand. "Bibbidi, bobbidi, boo!"

There, before her exhausted eyes, was her mother.


	6. Chapter 6

Ella didn't quite remember how to breathe.

She fell into her mother's embrace with a gasp, and it seemed to let loose a flood. The girl sobbed as her mother stroked her back and hummed, the tree gently rocking the two of them on a wordless lullaby. Eleanor had never believed in magic more than that moment. Her mother smelled of her perfume which, once a vague memory, was as sharp as the day she'd spilled a bottle of the stuff all over her feet. Her arms were warm and inviting, and for once she never wanted to move, let alone open her eyes. Yet she did, and the smiling face of her mother greeted her still. She glimmered at the edges, like her eyes had stared too long into the sun, and her skin had the luminescence of a pearl.

"Are you...are you still dead, then?" Ella sniffed and twisted her fingers through her long, golden hair.

"I am, love. Oh, but let me look at you!" Her mother sniffed and stroked her cheek with one thumb. "You've grown up so much...you're so thin..." Her lip trembled. "Have you looked after my darling girl, Lucinda? You promised me," Never once did her eyes waver. It seemed as though her mother wanted to drink in the sight of her.

"I have, Mary! I have! That's why you're here now, why she's here," The fae girl rested comfortably in the branches and made frantic circles around a handful of acorns. Each one glowed, like she'd lit a fire within. "One for each mark," Lucinda said, with a note of fury in her quavering voice. Her eyes kept changing colors as she plucked acorn after acorn, until she had five little nuts cradled in her palms. "I'm still learning magic, so I can only transform things. I can't possibly summon something from nothing. My mother could do that, she was very clever," The faerie laughed. "Oh, I would like to summon a tiger! I'd let it loose in that Tremaine woman's bedroom and - "

"Lucy!" Ella's mother scolded, looking as pleased as cross. "We don't have much time,"

She bobbed her pretty head. "Of course, of course, Ella love, won't you open the acorn Mira gave you?"

The top came loose with a little pop, and the faerie slipped in the white cloth. "Whatever you touch this with will be cleaned or repaired at once," She then plucked a burr from Ella's dress and waved her wand over it. Instantly gold glinted in her palm. "I give you a golden thimble. When you wear this, your needle's work may never be outdone," It also went into the acorn. A second burr became a miniature, golden spinning wheel that would make whatever color thread she desired from grass or fur.

""Thank you, Lucinda, thank you!" Ella marveled at the full nut resting in her hand.

"I'm not finished yet," The faerie cracked her knuckles. "You're about to be very fond of your faerie godmother,"

Several hours passed before Lucinda was satisfied. Ella clutched a satchel with four additional acorns. Each was full of bits and pieces, everything from a handful of dirt to a wisp of cloud or several of her mother's tears. After the odds and ends came a healthy dose of magic, and then the top was popped back on.

"It will be what you need when you open it, so be careful," Lucinda promised as she tended to the marks on her back. "You might only get one choice,"

Ella nodded as she watched yellow peek over the horizon. "You have to leave now...don't you, Mother?"

"I do, sweet girl. I was promised one more time to speak with you. Now, before you go, I have one last gift for you," Carefully Mary lowered her daughter to the ground. "It's from the forest," From the boughs of the tree she shook loose an enormous fur coat. It looked to be made of thousands of animal skins, and Ella recoiled in horror. "No, no, Ella these animals were not harmed. These were from the elderly, and the ones you cared for. The faeries came for them and enchanted their fur. It will keep you warm in the winter, and cool in the summer. It will help you hide, sweetheart,"

Ever so carefully Ella took it from her and slipped it around her slender frame. At once she was full of the love she'd poured into the animals and the forests. She was as warm as she needed to be, and it seemed to leech deep into her bones. "Darling, when you hear the tree has been cut, come back. There will be one final gift for you. Until then, you must stay away. Stay and hide, as well as you can," Another phantom kiss graced her cheek before the image of her mother began to fade. "Take courage," The moment she was gone, Eleanor ran.

Living in the forest wasn't as difficult as she assumed it would be. She already knew the layout. Her biggest complications came from Lady Tremaine's little search parties. A quick climb into the topmost branches got her safely out of their sight, and whenever they were too close the animals helped. Two large bears chased away a group of men she was certain had chains, and what sounded like a wolf pack seemed to easily deter them from further setting foot in the area. For a time, she was safe. She found the wagon she'd shared with Hunter parked beneath an ancient elm, its wheels shattered beyond repair. During the nights she wondered if the gypsies did it out of spite, or if Lady Tremaine hunted them out and did it herself.

When winter passed and spring began to thaw out the earth, Hunter became an issue. He patrolled the woods with and without his horse, calling her name until his voice croaked. Once he found the wagon it was impossible to keep as a home. He left small offerings; a sprig of lavender tied with satin, or a small lemon tart wrapped protectively against insects, and although she took them...she never returned the favor. Just the thought of her beating turned her stomach - often times she wondered what had happened to him. Eventually he stopped seeking her out, and the gifts stopped.

Perhaps it was better that way.

One morning, as she slept buried in her thick, comfortable coat she heard the baying of hounds. She'd nested in a tree after climbing it to return a pair of raven chicks, and found a rather perfect hollow. She was still too tired to think about the excitement of the dogs, or even why they might be in the forest. Were they after a rabbit, perhaps? A few stray dogs from the village, on an escape to who knows where? The slap of their paws against the slick, damp earth seized her stomach. No, this was no rabbit chase or mad dash at freedom. A moment of intent listening confirmed her darkest fear - a hunt - and not twelve seconds later she recognized herself as the target. They leapt up the trunk of the tree and snapped at her feet. Unable to flee, she remained paralyzed in her tree until their party rode into view.

A young man with thick, curling black hair and cheerful eyes sat pulled his horse to a gentle stop. Heat radiated from its coat. They'd been hunting for the morning, at the very least. A royal crest was stitched into his saddle, and as well as the rest of the men accompanying him. Yet he rode just out in front and seemed to be making the decisions. "There," He said, as he pointed in her direction. "Who's ever seen such an interesting creature?"

"I would hardly say interesting," A familiar voice called, breaking through the trees. Hunter had aged. Stubble darkened his jaw, and there were new lines she had yet to kiss. The very sight of him looking up, looking at her, had her pulling deeper into her coat. For not the first time she was grateful she wore her hair bound, and allowed her face to acquire dirt and grime. "A gremlin, perhaps? Or a traveler in an over sized coat?"

"Too early for travelers," The lead companion laughed, joining in on the new game. Was this the prince then?

"A forest spirit!"

"A furball!" At that the entire party threw back their heads and laughed. It seemed to stick, as the Prince dismounted and stepped toward the tree. "Come down, dear Furball and reveal yourself. Are you a poacher, set to hunt the King's forest to ruin? If that is the case, then I regret to say my companions will fire upon you and steal that lovely coat,"

"No, no, I'll come down," She said, fighting to climb without revealing herself. Hunter was frowning down at her but didn't say a word. She made sure not to catch his eye. "Please, sir, I am in fear of my life. I've been living on wild plants and sleeping in trees. Only take me with you and I will do as you ask. I can cook and sew," Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears. Had going without using it for so long hurt her throat in some way?

"Hmm, really? A cook or a seamstress? Hunter, what do you think?" The Prince looked toward the one face she'd been dreaming of, and she kept her eyes on the floor. "Can we use either?"

"Really, Leopold, I couldn't be bothered where you put another servant. The furball will need a place to live and food to eat. Perhaps a small wage, and a smaller room?" The company around him chuckled. "Do as you will, but I'm going to finish the hunt. I need to warm my blood," He snapped the reins, and his horse lurched forward at a gallop. Leopold carefully helped her onto the horse, who she murmured to all the while, and followed them. Having never been part of such a thing, seeing the hounds go after a stag was unsettling. Even worse was that she could hear his terror. He begged the dogs, who either ignored his pleas or didn't hear them. When they finally had him corned, she buried her face in the folds of Leopold's cloak to hide her bitter tears.

They carted the corpse behind them all the way to the castle.

What Hunter suggested, Leopold did. She was given a very small room just off the kitchen, with a window set so high into the wall it was a wonder she saw the sun at all. Ella kept her hair bound tight and allowed herself to be dirty, if only to hide who she was. If any one of these people knew Lady Tremaine, they might send her right back. She kept solely to the kitchen, where she plucked chickens and gutted fish. She brewed tea and soup and baked loaves of bread so white and fluffy they might have been clouds. While other servants gossiped about the royal family, Ella sang. She sang lullabies and folk songs. If she dared to even hum the songs of the travelers, the entire kitchen would be set back an hour from the dancing and laughter. For once, she was at the same level as another person. She was instructed but not despised. Others learned from her and did not call her names or belittle her. Ella found herself adjusting to the life of a servant, especially when it meant making good friends with the mice who lived in larder and crept inside from the cold.

"I suppose this is the way of it," She whispered to a pretty white mouse that she'd rescued from a trap only the day before. It nosed about her palm curiously, its whiskers twitching whenever she spoke. "I do miss Hunter, even though I see him. I haven't spoken to him once. Do you suppose he remembers me?"

The mouse squeaked and yawned before burrowing into the folds of her enchanted coat.

"No. I don't suppose he does,"


	7. Chapter 7

A year passed. When Ella informed the kitchen that their beloved Furball was nearly a young lady of eighteen, they went into a flurry of activity. They baked a cake with what they could spare, and hosted a lovely party for her. The children working in the stables gifted her with bouquets of wildflowers and roses tied firmly with horse-tail hairs. They pretended like they weren't pleased at her reactions, even when she kissed their cheeks and hung the plants from the low rafters in her room to preserve the color. "Furball, sweetheart, did you know that there is a ball for the Prince later in the week?" The cook asked once they'd cleaned everything up and started preparing for supper. "Why don't you take the night to watch? I'll need you to help for the week until then, but if everything is ready you can stay until midnight. I'll need help making their tea once everything settles, but you can stay until then," Ella swore she would, and spent a week making tarts and bonbons. She used her spinning wheel to make thread for embroidering the hem of the tablecloths, and when she wore the enchanted thimble from Lucinda there wasn't a soul who didn't praise her careful, impressive stitches. By the time the ball was ready to begin, the careful work of the quiet Furball in the kitchen was known throughout the castle.

"Um, about tonight," She murmured as she approached the cook, who hardly looked her way from an enormous pot of boiling hot cider. "Am I still allowed to..."

"Go, go! Quickly, though. Remember midnight. You mustn't be seen, either," The cook kissed her dirty cheek and grinned. "Maybe wash your face,"

Eleanor did much more than that. She unwound her hair and piled her coat in one corner of her room, then opened her acorn with the magic cloth. Rubbed once over her face and hair, it seemed to absorb the dirt and grime. A second time and it lengthened her fingernails and added a healthy flush to her cheeks. A third, and her hair grew long enough to seem otherworldly. Ella took the time to braid it atop her head and secure it with a smattering of pins she had on hand, although she left one curl free. Then she turned to the other nuts. Only one of them was warm in her hands, and seemed to give off a delicate glow. When she removed the top and tipped it over, out poured a generous length of dark blue silk. It puddled in her arms, and she quickly fought to strip away her cloths and lace herself into the gown.

The dress was the color of the night sky, as black and purple and blue as the midnights she remembered dancing with the gypsies. The bodice clung to her narrow waist, accentuated by a thick, iridescent sash that tied into a neat bow. Silver thread peeked as she twisted it around her legs and twirled, threatening to overtake the flicker of her candle with starlight. The skirt was almost too wide, if such a thing was possible, and perfectly fit for a royal ball. Magic made it a perfect fit, including the layers upon layers beneath that gave it shape, and the hoops that kept it away from her ankles. Another shake of the nut freed a silver ribbon hair net and an iridescent hair comb. Each crisscross of ribbon was studded with a delicate, diamond like gem. She slipped it over her braided bun and secured it with the hair comb, taking care to tuck the free golden curls out of sight.

"What if I'm recognized?" She murmured, turning the additional nuts in her hands. Another grew warm, ever so slightly, and from that she pulled a mask in the same, elaborate style as the dress. It was an iridescent black, like a raven's wing, with swirls of silver lace and a handful of silver feathers. Just before she put the top back in place, out fell a matching pair of silver heels. They shimmered with every step, and fit her feet like they'd been made for her. With her small understanding of magic, it was very likely they had. At least now she would fit in with the rest of the crowd. Creeping out of the servant's quarters without being noticed was another matter entirely.

She waited until the kitchen was a clanging, jostling mess of meringue, stews, half-roasted hares and more vegetables than she could name before lifting her skirts and running for the garden. She was astounded by its beauty. Tiny candles were lit along the pathway, surrounded by a globe of colored glass to protect the skirts of the attending ladies. "Oh Mother, you would adore this," She crooned to a snapdragon, stroking its bright red petals. The roses were half asleep, coiled within themselves and prepared to bloom in the morning. "Finches and doves, finches and doves, come awaken my little loves," Ella stretched out her arms and soon enough there was a small flock surrounding her. Their sleepy song was no less welcome than in the early morning, and she passed small flowers to each of them. "Send these to the tree in the farthest meadow, where the faeries and gypsies dance," The birds took wing just as a little serving girl entered through a side gate.

She recognized her - Abigail - a tiny little sprig of nine who worked as hard as girls twice her age. When she made eye contact with Eleanor she gasped, and the bucket of lentils she'd been carrying from the basement storage spilled all over the gravel pathway. "O-oh my heavens, oh, my lady I am sorry I...I..." Then she saw the mess she'd made of the path. Large, bubbling tears welled up in her eyes and she frantically sniffed them away. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to...are you lost I...I..."

"Hush, it's alright. Look here, I can help," Ella murmured quietly as she came up beside her. "Set the bucket upright, that's a girl. Now, don't be frightened," With that she made a little noise, halfway between a whisper and a squeak, that brought out more than a dozen mice. Abigail froze. "Hello friends, I'm in a bit of a hurry and I need your help," The group sat on their haunches and twitched their whiskers in her direction. "There are lentils spilled among the stones, and even with the starlight we're unable to see them. Won't you put them back in the bucket for me? Abigail as assured me the broken ones are yours to keep," The mice gave a little nod of their heather gray heads and scurried this way and that, clutching lentils between their paws and tossing stones that might have fooled human eyes.

"Who...who are you? How do you know my name?" Abigail whispered in awe, watching as the mice rapidly filled the bucket.

"Tonight I believe I'm the Princess of the Stars. Don't tell a soul you saw me, alright?" When Abigail nodded, Ella hurried for the front doors.

Carriages were still pulling up, and she slipped quietly behind one so that she looked like a proper arrival. She managed not to give a name by simply passing through the doors when Hubert, one of the head butlers, was otherwise occupied with a too flirtatious woman and her husband. Ella stifled a smile at the elderly gentleman's exasperation and was certain the whole kitchen would hear the gossip of it tomorrow. The crowd at the foot of the marble staircase was a whirl of masks and golden silk. A chatter rose up from the center of the room as the women were swept up into a lively dance, and the orchestra played with ferocity. Trembling, Ella stepped one glass covered foot onto the marble floor. She'd made it to the ball. Now all she had to do was remain unnoticed.

It was easier said than done.

Women took to whispering as she passed, staring at the glimmer of her skirt and glow of her hair. 'Enchanted' They muttered. 'A sorceress,' Hissed another as she marveled over the little sugar spun swans the cook laid in nests of chocolates piled as high as her chin. 'Maybe she's the fairy godmother of the Prince!' That voice she recognized, and she lowered violet eyes on her stepsister. Anastasia took half a step back, her peacock colored gown a horrid mass of green and blue feathers that made her look twice her size. Her mask was little more than a square of lace over one eye. No one would think she was anyone other than who she was.

"I didn't say anything," The dark-haired girl scoffed and vanished into the crowd.

Other than her obnoxious stepsister, Ella was left to herself. She hardly spoke. When men stepped close and requested her for a dance she simply smiled and permitted them to sweep her across the floor. The dress was lighter than air, and the enchanted shoes kept her feet as comfortable as when she'd first slipped them on. When she wasn't dancing she was feasting; the tarts she'd helped prepare weren't too sour, the pyramids of bonbons weren't too sweet. She was listening intently to a discussion between to of the higher-class ladies about Lady Tremaine's lack of suitors for her daughters (apparently the fullest point of gossip) when two sharp knocks silenced the orchestra and drew the attention of everyone on the floor.

"And now we announce their highnesses, King Phillip and Queen Rosalyn!"

The ruling couple stepped forward with bright smiles. The King's doublet was all golds and blues, and the peppering color of his hair and beard make him look wiser rather than older. His wife stood comfortably at his side, with a cheerful smile and a dimple at one corner that boasted secrets. Her dress was just as blue, although there was a curious pink stain on one sleeve. "Lords and Ladies," The Queen began, as she took a step away from her husband to approach the topmost stair. We present to you this evening, our beloved son. While we understand that not having him in the public eye has been the subject of concern and gossip, we hope tonight will ease your hearts. My mother and father taught my brother and I the importance of looking inwardly at the heart of all things," She touched a hand to her breast and looked to be fighting back tears. "They are missed more than I can express. It was through their guidance that the kingdom is as it stands today, and so it will remain. For I assure you, my only son is alive and well,"

At that the room collectively drew their breath. Leopold stepped forward with a half-quirked smile and his arms crossed. His hair was mildly tamed, revealing bright blue eyes that she hadn't remembered being quite so hypnotic. His mask was that of a lion, and so was his gait as he descended. It wasn't until he entered the crowd that she noticed Hunter following like a shadow. His expression was hard, his shoulders tense. Inexplicably she found herself drawn to him, pushing ever so gently through the throng until she was within reaching -

"Excuse me," She heard through a fog at her left. Was the room still so quiet? She turned from Hunter, and found her breath quite gone. The Prince stood smiling down at her with a hand extended.

"Y-yes?"

"Might I have this dance? You are, by far, the loveliest woman in the room,"

In answer she curtsied, so deep she might have been kneeling were it not for the yards of fabric between her skin and the floor. It was Leopold who took her hand and brought her back to her feet, and led her to the center of the floor. Courtesans surrounded them in matching colors of blue and gold. Her own gown, sparkling like the night sky and as dark as the heavens, stood out like a sore thumb. At least she knew the steps. The dances Lady Tremaine taught hung in the corners of her mind, and all it took was a few turns to dust away the cobwebs. By the time the set finished and the musicians were readying themselves for a second she was laughing and breathless.

"Thank you, that was marvelous! I haven't done that for such a long time I'd nearly forgotten how good it feels," She laughed as he led her from the dancers. He kissed the back of her hand with a smile.

"I must dance with the other girls, I'm afraid. Wait for me?"

She nodded with a smile, which left him free to request the dance company of a young woman in violet, with high brunette curls. Ella clasped her hands and tried to still the shaking in her legs. The prince! She'd danced with the prince, and he hadn't recognized her! She covered her elated laugh with one hand and was about to turn back to the elaborately laid feast when she felt a slight pressure at her elbow. When she turned, it was Hunter who filled her vision. "You!" She gasped softly, longing to reach out and touch him.

"Would you dance with me? You were asked to wait a few dances, and I should hate to see you become bored in the mean time,"

"Oh, oh yes! I would love to," With that they were spinning back into the fray. It was easy to match his movements - it was like there was no time at all between this meeting an their last. His hand fit the small of her back and their hands clasped with such familiarity that it was a wonder it took almost two additional waltzes for him to come to a halt and breathe - "El...eleanor? Is it you?"

Could someone die of happiness? "Hello, Hunter," She opened her mouth to ask how he'd been, ask about the years between them and if he'd found a young woman to take her place but she did not get the chance. Instead he grasped her wrist and pulled her from the floor, pushing aside the ladies of the court who moved with little more than a giggle. The Tremaine's glared at her as she passed them, and she was quite certain there was a flash of recognition in the eyes of her Stepmother. By the time she was considering it she'd been pulled from the ballroom and down the long, twisting hallways to one of the smaller sitting rooms. A half-finished painting graced an easel. There were several lounges scattered about the room, as well as a writing desk and several potted plants.

"Hunter, I -" Yet again she was interrupted, this time by a crushing kiss. "Mmph!" She struggled against him for a moment, even as the waves of memory pulled her deeper into bliss. She gave in after a moment, and draped her arms around his neck. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, her throat, and merely breathed to whisper her name. Shivers ran up her spine. "Hunter, Hunter please -"

"Were you lying, then? Are you really a princess?" His eyes glistened with tears.

"No, no I'm not a princess. I'm no royalty at all,"

"A vision? A ghost?" He cupped her face in his hands and seemed to be fighting back tears.

"Hunter, you're frightening me," She pulled his hands away if only to press kisses to their palms. "I'm here. I'm right in front of you,"

"They said you were dead. They said...the gypsies. A woman came to them in a rage, covered in blood. She told them she would kill them if they stepped on her land again," He drew her into an embrace and she clung to him. Madame Tremaine? After the whipping, she had gone directly to the gypsy camp? Is that why they'd smashed the wagon?

"Not dead, only hurt. I had to hide from her. She meant to sell me. Oh my love, I don't have much time at all. Please know I'm safe, and...and, I'm watching over you," A clock rang out once - half past - and a look at the nearest one confirmed she was very close to missing her curfew. "I promised the prince another dance, I don't want to get you in trouble. Please, Hunter, just know how much I love you. Always. I'm so sorry,"

She drew away and fled back to the ballroom, just in time to catch Leopold's eye. He was drawing her into an intricate waltz just as Hunter made his way into the room. Confusion was all over his face, and a wounded hurt that made her chest ache. The joy she'd felt earlier was replaced by longing, and every turn of her head she met his eye. She didn't miss the clenched fist, the burning eyes. Was he angry with her? She didn't have time to explain, as she was pulling away from the Prince before the song even properly ended. Her curtsy was as hurried as her frantic steps that pulled her out from the crowd, up the staircase and around the side of the castle. Getting back to her room was harder than leaving it, and she just barely had time to tuck the dress away before she heard the shouts of the guards.

It could mean only one thing.

They were looking for her. They were looking for the girl with the gold hair and starlit dress, with shining silver shoes that twinkled even in the darkness. They didn't seek a Furball with linen smothered hair. They sought pale skin unkissed by the sun for so long, a mere blush made her whole face pink. Smearings of ash and soot across cheekbones and noses were overlooked. They sought a girl hiding, frantic, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that it set the rhythm for the waves crashing on the shore. A servant girl who offered a bowl of hot soup and bread was merely pushed aside. So Ella hid in plain sight, with only a tingle on her lips as a souvenir of her glorious evening.


	8. Chapter 8

Once the guests made their way home, it was the kitchen's job to feed the royals who may have otherwise not eaten. Some of the women set to work clearing away what remained of the feast. It would first go to the guards and footmen who'd waited patiently out of doors, then to the ladies of the court who merely requested a nibble here and there and were now in danger of fainting. Ella thought of her stepsisters as she cleared the tables, and couldn't help giggling at the sight of several entirely empty serving trays. The tarts had been finished, as were the sugar swans and chocolates. Anything with even a touch of sweetness was completely gone.

"I don't understand it," The cook muttered as she wiped her brow with the back of a cloth. "We ain't never run out of those things before. I guess the next ball we'll need to make even more. Bloody 'ell," She swore and plopped into a high backed, wicker chair. She didn't notice Ella freeze.

"T-the next ball?" She lifted an enormous copper pot onto the hooks within the hearth and filled it with water. "I thought the prince was looking for a wife with this one. Isn't that the point?" Half a handful of salt was stirred in, and she carefully encouraged the fire.

"Aye, it's supposed be. I heard from the top that we're to have another tomorrow evening. Apparently the one he liked run off before he got a chance to ask," The old cook heaved a sigh. "Lentil soup is for the royals tonight. Go ahead and make that up for me. You got your hours off,"

"And tomorrow night?" She stirred the pot as the water boiled and found the bucket of lentils Abigail brought in earlier in the evening. "Could I...could I beg leave tomorrow night?" In the lentils went, splashing water on her coat.

"Again? Well...you don't ask for much. I hardly think you ask for anything. Do another embroidery job for the table cloths and we'll discuss it," The cook stood and wandered away to her bed. The other servants were nearly as weary. "Don't let slip I didn't do the soup then, yeah? Supposed to be my job,"

Ella minced onion and garlic with fervor, thinking only of the next night. Would the acorns hold another dress? More shoes? Handfuls of fresh bay leaves went into the simmering pot, along with basil and crushed tomatoes they usually reserved for sauces. Before she quite realized what she was doing, she'd fallen back on the recipe the gypsies gifted to her. Chili dust to bring out the sweetness of a secret handful of brown sugar, diced carrots and celery to make an otherwise bland soup colorful, vinegar and fresh spinach to balance out the flavors. When the stew was finally ready, she carefully arranged the royals' bowls on a large silver tray and pulled the golden ring from her pocket.

What would they think finding this in the bowl? It was easily recognizable, and someone was bound to mention they'd found it to Hunter or his father. She placed it in the center of one of the bowls and ladled in the soup just as the head servant came for it. She quickly added a loaf of hearty, brown bread and a dish of golden butter. "It's important to be warmed from the inside, even if it takes a soup to do it," She urged with a smile. The servant nodded and bore the load away.

"Leftovers, anyone?" The young woman asked, grinning cheekily. The kitchen staff finished off the pot and had the entire area spotless within the hour. Ella was just putting the copper pot away when in strode Leopold, flanked only by Hunter. She froze, as did the others. Would the coat do a good enough job hiding her?

"Who made the soup?" Leopold demanded, looking around the kitchen. Everyone ducked their heads. "I asked a question and I demand an answer!" Hunter placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, although he did look pale and concerned. "Who cooked for us this evening?"

Ella could feel the eyes of the other servants on her and swallowed. "I will fetch her," She muttered, dashing away to the cook's room.

When they returned some moments later, with the cook insistent that she'd prepared and served it, they left in a huff. Was it her imagination or was Hunter eyeing her as they stepped through the door? "What was all that about?" The cook asked, glaring at the rest.

Eleanor shrugged and hastily retreated to her room.

* * *

The next day was another whirlwind of activity. She and the other servants woke before dawn and were still rubbing sleep from their eyes even as they bustled about. Decorations from the previous evening were enhanced, and she stitched still another scene to the tablecloths using strips of material from her gown as thread. The stars and moon scene seemed to shimmer and twinkle, but everyone was too busy to do more than glance. She was busiest in the kitchen, where flour covered her hands and the bulky fur coat was becoming more and more cumbersome. Soon enough the party was well underway, but she was still too busy to step away. It was only after icing dozens and dozens of little cakes that the cook shooed her away. "Midnight!" She was ordered, and she was already flying to her room.

A second acorn held her answer for the evening, even as she used the enchanted cloth to scrub her face pink and fix her hair. A swath of emerald silk fell into her arms, and it was so close to the color of the forest that she felt tears choking her. The sweetheart neckline was embroidered in gold, with little golden flowers twisting their way over the full bodice so that they made a delicate border around her waist. It ruched around her waist and fell in cascading layers like the boughs of a tree, revealing a peek of olive green underneath. The skirt was as full as the last, although this one had a small train of green that looked very much like a trail of leaves in her wake. Again tumbled a pair of shoes, less cumbersome than the silver heels she'd ran in, and a green and gold mask trimmed in ivy that left a smell of springtime around her. This time there was no hairnet, no matter how much she probed, so she quickly wrapped her hair up into a loose bun and hoped for the best.

On her second mad dash through the garden, Abigail was there to meet her. The child clutched another sack of lentils, and just managed to grin over the top of it. "I was hoping to see you again!" She curtsied, and a handful of the things fell to the floor. "Who are you tonight?"

Ella looked in the direction of the party and leaned down to place two sweet kisses on her cheeks. "I'm a Princess of the Forest I think. Let no soul know that you saw me, agreed?"

Abigail nodded. "Can I see the animals again? They were so sweet, and so helpful!" Without a word of confirmation she'd dipped her hand into the lentils and scattered them around the pathway. "They can eat those! I have so much more this time. One of the kitchen girls made a really good stew, and everyone ate it up! They want her to make more!"

Ella felt a pang of pride, and before she quite realized what she was doing she'd whistled out a pleasant tune that reminded one of springtime and sunlight. A flock of sparrows were the ones to answer her call, and she directed them to the lentils. "Whatever you'd like," She promised the little birds. "I must run. Be sure to thank Abby!" With that she lifted her skirts and was running for the ballroom.

She slipped in desperate to ignore the gossip and whispers that seemed to follow her every step, and looked through the crowd for Hunter. If she could speak to him, explain the danger even...She was so busy thinking about her own problems that she hardly registered the young woman standing on her immediate left until she ran into her. Ella gasped and nearly tripped over her wide, sweeping skirts. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry! I hope I haven't..."

Drisella.

She was a horror in black silk. It looked like her sickly stepsister was preparing for a funeral, or at least attempting a terrible mockery of Eleanor's own dress from the previous evening. Large clusters of pearls had been sewn haphazardly against the canvas of dark fabric, and the layers around her waist made her look as though she'd been uncomfortably squeezed into a layered cake. "You should hope you haven't torn my gown," The irritable woman demanded, looking for loose threads and torn hemlines. "Well then, you're lucky this time," Suddenly unconcerned, Drisella turned back to the trio of women she'd been entertaining.

Ella saw them studying her over the edges of their fans. They twittered like a chorus of furious hens, all squabbling over the last few kernels of corn. She knew what they were wondering: who made her dress? Who styled her hair? Where was her escort? Exactly who _was_ this strange woman? Drisella didn't seem bothered. As far as she was concerned, the world revolved around her and her needs. She spared Eleanor a single withering glare before ducking her head and drawing a round of laughter from the assembled ladies. For Ella, it was had to not feel insulted. Heat rose in her cheeks as she moved away through the crowd, offering a small nod of her head here and a smile there. Just as she was contemplating the idea that Hunter might be absent, she felt a hand take her own and her heart soared.

"I've been looking for you!" She said as she turned, eagerly slipping into a warm hand around her waist. It was only when she was in the perfect position for a waltz that she realized the gentleman holding her close was none other than the Prince. Leopold smiled down at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. His mask was little more than a wide strip of black material.

"You have? I've been waiting for you. You danced so wonderfully last night that I simply had to request another. May I?" He didn't wait for a response however, and simply swept her into a dizzying display of wide skirts and silk. The colors flashed by her, and no matter which way she turned her head she saw only a sea of masks.

"Who taught you?" Her partner asked as he spun her through a complicated series of steps. "Your governess?"

Bile raised in her throat at the thought. "No, I had several dance instructors," She thought back to moonlit nights and kisses under the stars. "They were all incredibly talented,"

"And your gown? I don't know if even the royal seamstress is as talented," She felt his fingers move across her waist as he traced the design. Eleanor shivered.

"A secret, your highness. Should she leave me I wouldn't know what to do with myself," The pace of the dance picked up and she hardly had a breath to give, let alone speak. Somehow Leopold found a way to make not only conversation, but jokes! He whispered conspiratorially about the ladies of the court and those of the town. He mocked the elaborate masks with their unbalanced feathers and gems, and by the end of the number she was laughing herself silly. Leopold led her to a table to eat and drink, and breathlessly continued the conversation. Ella found him to be a wonderful person to speak with, even if his answers seemed vague and stiff. It felt almost as though they were rehearsed.

Just as he was about to lead her out for a second dance, a member of the guard stepped up and whispered in his ear. She saw the shift in his body language. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand and promised to be back swiftly, and without another word followed two guards from the ballroom. Ella stood beside a pillar with the eyes of the room on her, until another lively song rang out from the orchestra. In a heartbeat those who wished to dance were once again dominating the floor.

"I didn't think I would see you again," Whispered a familiar voice. A hand reached out to take hers, and she struggled to hide her smile as she stepped toward the shadows at the edge of the room. "Come with me?"

"Of course," She breathed, turning directly into Hunter's arms. Arm in arm they crept away from the gala, and ventured room to room until they came to a magnificent library. He led her to a large, comfortable velvet sofa and lay down upon it, pulling her with him. She lay for a moment, marveling once again in the sound of his heartbeat against her cheek. His fingers traced the line of her throat and shoulders. She thought she felt him pulling playfully at her hair.

"Why did you leave last night?" He pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Leopold sent the guards to look for you," Another kiss. "Oh Eleanor, I've missed you so much,"

"Hunter, I can't stay. I only have so much time before I must go," She turned her head to meet his lips and sighed against them. "I was worried for your safety. I thought if Lady Tremaine did what she did to the gypsies, she might go after you next. I can only pray she thinks I'm long dead,"

"You could always stay with me," He offered suddenly, easing the two of them into a sitting position. "We could go anywhere you wished. Even to the sea. There are other Kingdoms. There are places that haven't yet been conquered," He cupped her cheek and stroked along her lip with his thumb. "Where are you hiding?"

"I can't tell you. They don't even know who I really am,"

"They?" He pulled away. "You're with others? How do they not know you?"

"Hunter, please, I've said too much. I could put you in harms way if Lady Tremaine discovered me. Just...just kiss me again," She begged, leaning forward to claim him.

He complied, and the time fell away. She was maskless when the doors swung open and Leopold found them, with her hair a shining curtain that fell around her shoulders.

"Hunter! Where have you been? It's midnight and I've been looking for you and I -" His voice caught in his throat. "You...you're beautiful," He marveled, taking one step forward.

"Midnight?" Ella cried, leaping up from the embrace. "It can't be!"

"Eleanor, wait!"

And yet she was running. Flying. The urge to tear free from the dress almost overwhelmed her when a guard reached out at a command of - _"Stop her!"_ yet she contained her panic and fled through the gardens and the kitchen. If she wasn't aware of the secret passages reserved for the servants, she would have been caught. By the time she'd changed out of her gown and stashed it away there was no time to carefully wrap her hair. With a quiet sob she lifted a pair of shears and chopped it so tightly to her scalp she bled. The armful of glistening, golden curls she stuffed beneath the mattress, and then she smeared pitch across her head.

Even though she was in her bountiful, fur coat it took some time for the other servants to recognize her. They didn't say a word as once again the guards came and searched through the kitchen and servants quarters. For a moment she wondered if they would find her hair, but with a solemn shake of a head the guard who'd hastily looked through her meager belongings directed the rest of the men out. The cook was at attention, and it was under her sharp eye that Ella shakily prepared the same meal for the royals as the previous evening. It was only when she was finished that the cook ushered everyone aside and took her into the garden.

"It's moving into morning," Ella complained through swollen eyes and a sniffle. "W-we should be in bed. You've had such a long day,"

"That it is," The cook said, and sat them on a patch of well tended earth. "Furball, I'm not as stupid as some think. I know it's you the King's men were after. Like last night, I'm guessing?"

She nodded.

"Did you upset one of the royals? Get in anyone's way?"

A shake of her head.

"Furball my girl, what is it you did? What would send the guards into the kitchen after midnight? And why is your head covered in pitch?"

Ella managed a hiccup and caught the tears before they fell. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you,"

"Ach, child, my sister married into magick years ago. I believe a lot more than I let on. Now, go ahead and tell me," She took Eleanor's hand and gave it a tired pat. "Before the moon sinks too low?"

So Ella talked. She started slow, but once the words tumbled free it was hard to stop any of them. She spoke of the faeries and her mother's tree. She spoke of Hunter's kisses, and the elation she'd felt at seeing him for the past two nights. They sat together in the moonlight, well after the torches around the castle had been extinguished. When they finally collapsed into bed as dawn was cresting, it was with warm embraces and promises of secrets kept. For the first time, Eleanor had someone looking out for her.


	9. Chapter 9

"Sweetheart, won't you eat?" The Queen inquired as she tore a piece from the warm, brown loaf of bread beside her plate. "These events are so tiresome, and I didn't expect to host a second," There was the clink of heavy metal cutlery as the royals tucked into their late meal. The King and Queen had been present merely in appearance at the latest gala. With their elaborate masks and freshly styled wigs, it was easy to have two servants pose as the reigning monarchs. It was never difficult to convince anyone to double for them. However, while there were few opportunities for the King and Queen to skip on an appearance, it was a daily affair for the Prince.

"Your Majesty, I believe our young charge's heart is broken," Leopold raised his wine glass and nudged the young man sitting at his right. "His mysterious woman ran off again, and he sent the entire guard after her. I think if she'd taken off in a carriage he'd have gone on horseback,"

Queen Rosalyn snapped her napkin in Leo's direction with a laugh. "Oh now, you just leave him be. When we discussed you being Hunter's stand in, we didn't give you leave to tease him," She pushed a bowl of fruit towards her son. "Please, darling, you have to eat something. They'll find her. If there's some kind of enchantment, it can be broken. Isn't that right, my love?"

King Phillip nodded and devoured the last of his soup, and signaled for seconds. "We broke yours, my darling. I think a midnight spell isn't quite so long as a century, don't you?" The monarchs laughed. as he took a drink from his goblet. "I know it wasn't really a hundred years, but every day apart from you was a lifetime. Now, Hunter," He turned to his son with a sigh. "Is she under some sort of enchantment? Your grandfather was under a spell, do you remember? I believe it was a midnight enchantment as well, wasn't it dear?"

"No, Father, Grandad was under a daylight enchantment and Grandmama Belle freed him at night," Hunter pushed his food away and sighed heavily. "I _know_ her! It's Eleanor. I thought she was...I thought she was dead. I thought her stepmother had killed her," The Prince glared at his friend. "If you hadn't rushed in, I might have convinced her to run away with me! Or...or at least explained that I could keep her safe,"

"Hunter, you can't do that!" His mother gasped, nearly dropping her goblet. "Leopold's life has been in jeopardy time after time, and he's done it all with a smile! The only reason that Witch didn't curse him at your eighth birthday party is because she recognized he wasn't of royal blood! I was so sure she was going to go looking for you that I nearly took you into hiding,"

"Mother she was a vision," The Prince said, pushing away from the table. "Worst of all, I have no thought of where she's gone! She vanished into thin air! I thought for a day that she was someone who worked in the kitchen, but none of the girls look even a bit like her. I don't know what to do or how to find her,"

"Have a third ball, Hunter," Leopold stood and carried over a goblet of wine. "You know, I suspected that Furball girl for a while, but no one could change that quickly," He passed the Prince his drink and gestured toward the garden. "Look. She's there with the cook, as I suspect she has been all day. Why do you think her head is covered in pitch?"

"I suppose if she cut off her hair and needed to hide its true color..." He seemed to be muttering to himself as he turned from the window and strode from the room, abandoning his goblet in Leopold's hands.

"Hunter? Are you going to bed already?" His mother called out, glancing worriedly between her husband and son.

"In two days time I'm going to have a third ball," He declared, catching his father's eye. "If Eleanor won't be my bride, then I will never love another and will choose from the assembled ladies there. Third time's the charm, right?"

* * *

When Eleanor woke the next morning, well after the sun had risen, it was to a cacophony of angry curses and sighs of complaint. She'd scrubbed the pitch from her head and treated the worst of the wounds, and thankfully it looked a little more presentable. Still she remained bundled in her fur coat, even as she was tasked with plucking half a dozen chickens. The cook was doing her best to quiet the commotion. "Please! Ladies! You're better than this. You work for the castle, understand? They ain't like a regular Lord or Lady. You think this is bad, you go ahead and work for the Tremaines," That quieted the lot, who immediately bustled away to their designated tasks.

"The Tremaines?" She whispered to one of the serving girls as she passed, mumbled about rosemary and thyme. "Everyone here knows the Tremaines?"

The girl laughed. "Furball, you don't talk much to people do you? You like to keep to yourself," She glanced around before plunking herself down on a nearby stool and taking ownership of one of the fattest hens. "Well, Lady Tremaine had a stepdaughter she employed as just about everything. Everyone in the market knew the girl, Ella, because of her father. Well, the gypsies came and told everyone to refuse them service. Apparently Lady Tremaine flew into a rage over something Ella did wrong and killed her," She wrenched out a handful of feathers, and took a rather sizable amount of skin with it. "No one works for the Tremaine family. If she was willing to kill her stepdaughter, what would she do to the rest of us?"

Eleanor still hadn't discovered the source of the morning's upheaval when she went out to care for the rest of the chickens. She had her hand dipped in a sackful of corn kernels when two little doves alighted on the nearby coop. She did her best to spread around the majority of the kernels and hurried to the sweet little birds cooing in her direction. "Hello friends," She murmured, holding out her hands to them. The doves flew to her fingertips nuzzled her palms.

 _"Your mother's tree was cut,"_ One of them said, its voice as sorrowful as the grey color of its feathers. _"Go tonight,"_

"What?" Ella asked, pulling her coat tighter. "What do you mean it was cut?" The first bird offered twittered condolences and lifted into the sky.

 _"Stepmother cut it down and sold it for firewood. Gone, all gone,"_ It rubbed against her hand again and cooed sadly before it too, flew away. Eleanor was left only with her pounding heart and a stomach that had dropped down to her ankles. Her mother and Lucinda told her to come again when the tree had been chopped down. Did that mean she would see them again? She could at least thank them for the wonderful gifts. She finished feeding the chickens and fled back in to the kitchen. She could only go once everyone had gone to bed. Then she might be able to convince a horse to take her there and back before sun up.

By mid-afternoon, Eleanor was sorely tempted to shrug free from her coat. It was growing patchy, and even an enchantment couldn't keep her from sweating from exertion. It was cumbersome and large, and she wanted to feel the looseness of her own dresses and an apron like the other servants wore. Yet the thought that Lady Tremaine would suddenly be able to find her kept her safely in the coat's embrace, and she worked through and around her obstacles. Her thoughts were barely on the kitchen. Instead she could only imagine her mother's beautiful willow, hacked into logs and sold to the highest bidder. Perhaps Lady Tremaine had finally given up on the thought of selling her stepdaughter, and her stepdaughter's tree was the next best plan.

Night fell like heavy blanket over the entire castle. When silence finally stretched throughout the halls and the candles and torches were smothered or dim, she quietly shed her coat and hurried to the stables. She begged several of the horses for a quiet ride to and from the meadow, promising apples and chestnuts and all manner of good, sweet things to eat but only received permission from a brown mare with big, sorrowful eyes. She knelt for Ella, who scampered on to her back and fisted her hands in the thick hair of her mane.

She spoke only to direct her mount, and she was carried as quietly as the dawn through the village and towards the outlying forests and hills. There was an odd stillness in the air as they approached the meadow, and Eleanor dismounted with a promise of a speedy return. Alone she walked to the ruins of her mother's tree. The wood had been chopped mercilessly, and to see it splintered and broken she nearly wept. Ella pulled off her shoes and let her toes sink through the grass and dirt. Her night was barely even lit by starlight, for all the clouds concealed.

"Hello, my girl," Eleanor whirled at the voice, and found herself quite unable to speak. "Your mother has said I am to give you the largest hug I'm able," Her father shimmered into view and opened his arms. "Don't keep her waiting, love,"

Ella fell into his arms with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her father lifted her and whirled her about, once, twice, before setting her down to look her over.

"Eleanor! Oh, my girl look at you! You're filthy! Your beautiful hair? What's happened to it? And you're so thin!" He mourned now, lifting the ruins of her dress and the scratches along her scalp. "I am so sorry, dear heart. Are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"Father, oh Father, no don't cry. I haven't seen you in an age," She cradled his hand against her cheek. "I don't live at home now, but I am well. I am fed and I have a room of my own. I work in the castle kitchen. It's much nicer than being with...with..." She paused. "That doesn't matter now. Oh, I've missed you!" She threw her arms around him. "I thought I would be seeing Mother again, but this is just as fine," Together they settled at the base of the tree, and like she had with her Mother they spoke on all things that leaped to her mind. When she finally found her eyelids growing heavy her father shook her awake and helped her to her feet.

"This is one last gift for you, my love. Dig here, at the roots of the tree. You'll find a gift from your mother and I. With this gift your every step will be as though walking on air," He kissed her cheeks. "I want to see what you think before the sun rises,"

Carefully Eleanor dug at the earth at the base of the tree. It came away from the roots easily, although it stained her frock and beneath her nails a rich, deep brown. She dug deeper and deeper until, just when she thought that perhaps her stepmother had taken this priceless thing from her too, her fingers brushed across something smooth. From the earth she pulled a pair of dainty heels, made entirely of glass. The dirt shook free with barely any effort, which left the shoes glittering like diamonds.

"Enchanted," He said softly, running his thumb over her cheek. "They won't break. They won't pinch at your toes or blister your heel. When you wear them, you will hardly feel them, and yet they will carry you as far and as fast as you wish," Eleanor heard a rooster cry out, and gave her father one last hug. He was already losing substance.

"I love you, Father. I miss you terribly," He was gone before she'd even stepped away. The young woman wiped her tears away, and was about to move towards where she'd left the mare when she heard a familiar screeching that send a tremor down her spine.

"Filthy gypsies! I told you to stay away! I took away that hideous tree. What are you going to dance with now? A stump! Be gone you filthy vagabond I -" Her Stepmother came closer, brandishing an axe. "Y-you! You're dead. You must be dead by now!"

"Not dead, Lady Tremaine. I'm thriving quite well,"

"What are those in your hands? Those belong to me! They were on my property!"

"Your property? You desecrated the graves of my mother and my father! Not one row of cabbages belongs to you!" With that Ella slipped the dainty shoes on her feet, and _ran_. Her stepmother hadn't even a dream of a wish of catching her. By the time the shoes carried her to the horse's back the woman was still wailing at the ruins of the tree. Girl and mare rode frantically for the castle, She quickly brushed down the horse, thanked her profusely, and promised to bring an apple for her later.

By the time she made it back to her room and threw on her heavy fur coat and hid the shoes, preparations for the day were well under way.

"Furball! Glad you finally got up, lazy bones. Your job is making the sugar swans, polishing the lamps in the ballroom, and stitching a new tablecloth. The one from the other night was ruined by chocolate," The cook sniffed at what she had boiling on the stove. "Go on then, girl! Hurry on with it!"

Ella was frozen to the spot. "We're hosting a third gala? So soon?"

One of the other serving girls snorted a laugh. "The Prince says his bride to be will come to this third ball, and then we shan't have another until the wedding day. I hope he means that's years and years away, because I am quite finished making these little chocolate balls. Normally we have enough leftover to eat, but these past two nights they've been gone! It's horrid, really,"

"So then, the ball is tonight?" Ella asked as she started working on melting the sugar for the swans. "That hardly leaves us any time to prepare!"

"What do you think we were doing yesterday, Furball? We found out just after breakfast. We're nearly done, thankfully. It's strange though. The Prince asked us not to hunt a stag for this feast. He said he wanted to have a kinder meal," The cook rolled her eyes. "Hurry now. If you do a well enough job, I'll give you leave again to enjoy it. I think I might even be able to spare you past midnight,"

Eleanor grinned and nodded. "T-thank you! If this is the last ball, then I shouldn't need leave again. Just...just the once more will help me properly say goodbye," She stirred the simple syrup of sugar and water and watched as the crystals melted into a smooth, glass-like consistency. "Yes," She murmured to herself. "Once more, and that will be goodbye,"


	10. Chapter 10

Eleanor never realized sugar swans, leek soup and individual rolls of bread were so time consuming. Then there was the task of polishing the lamps until she could see her own face reflected in the gold and silver, and stitching a new tablecloth. She'd discovered that her dresses from the past two galas were mere scraps once again, and weren't more than what Lucinda had put into the nuts in the first place. It was using these materials that she stitched an exquisite willow tree on the table cloth, its branches sweeping up and around the embroidered hem. She embroidered figures dancing around the tree, and a beautiful, silver moon. Even if it was only for the evening, it felt good to have something reminiscent of her mother for all to see.

Then the sun set.

The cook waved her away with a conspiratorial smile, and Ella (for once) took care getting ready. The magic cloth was even more spectacular than she'd dreamed, and seemed to regrow her hair in an instant. The glass heels were the most comfortable she'd ever worn, and as she sat on her bed to pull free the third dress she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Had moonlight spilled from the window and into her lap?

No, it was a gown. A gown stitched from the stars and the moonlight carried down on moth's wings. It was the air of spring, as delicate as Queen Anne's Lace and as cool as the feather-soft touch of a child. The blue material was iridescent, and slipped as smoothly over her hips as the shoes had over her heel. The sleeves hung low on her shoulders, leaving the pale skin bare to the glare of the lights and gossip of the women. The waist pinched in just tight enough to be fashionable, and had a circlet of silver gems stones and pearls that cascaded down the back of her skirt, where more beads were embroidered along the hem in elaborate curls. It was a far cry from her lumpy fur coat. In fact, she felt like she might be one of the faeries herself.

Another shake from the acorn solidified the idea, with a pair of nearly transparent wings that clipped to the back of her dress and a lace mask that just seemed to dust over the bridge of her nose and around her eyes. In fact, for the first time, Eleanor was confident in who she was. She strode purposely from her room and across the gardens, thankfully free of Abigail, and made her way through the front doors. When she stepped into the ball she breathed a sigh of quiet relief. Hunter was waiting for her, his arms clasped tightly behind his back, as he stared out at the crowd. She descended quickly, forgoing the rest of the formalities as she curtsied before him.

"Dance with me?" She begged, and couldn't help but smile as he pulled her into a familiar hold. Their hands knew each other, every line and every scar, and they whirled onto the floor together. The music was livelier, she noted. It had an air of nostalgia to it that she couldn't quite place, but as they spun past the musicians she saw a familiar face. The gypsies! The Prince had invited the gypsies to play for the gala! Ella hadn't felt so at ease in quite a long time.

"Hunter, it's like before. Oh, I don't want this night to end!"

"Well it...it doesn't have to," Hunter said as they came to the end of the dance.

"Darling, it isn't safe. I told you - "

"No. No words, come with me. I have to tell you something," At once he led her out into the deepest parts of the garden, as far away from prying eyes and nosy ears as he could manage. Ella felt her heart galloping in her chest. "I...I wasn't entirely honest with you," He offered her a seat on a beautifully carved bench and paced before it. "In fact, I don't suppose I ever told you who I really was,"

"Hunter? What are you talking about?"

"The day you found me in the woods, I'd ridden away from a tutor. I wanted to feel freedom and well, you saw how well that turned out,"

"Your...your clothes, why would you have a tut-"

"Because I had tutors for many things. Linguistics, math, art and music. I learned sword fighting at a young age. War planning younger than that even," He breathed a nervous chuckle. "M-my mother was cursed as a girl, and so was her father. My grandmother freed him, and my father freed her and I..."

"What are you saying?" She asked, making fists in the material of her gown.

"Leopold is not the Prince. I am," He knelt before her and took her hands. "Eleanor, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth before. My mother was cursed by a witch, and after that she was terrified that the same thing might happen to me. Leopold was born only a day after me, and he became my stand-in. He's as much my brother as anyone by blood would be,"

"Hunter! I mean, you..." Her words failed her.

"I can protect you, my love. I can keep you safe from whoever might harm you. My cousin owns a seaside castle, we could hide there. We could live there if you wish,"

"Wait, this is too much. I don't -"

"Marry me, Eleanor. Please. Marry me. Don't run away again. If you're under a spell, I'll break it. If you're being hunted, I'll hide you. I haven't been whole since I lost you, and I couldn't bear to do it again," He kissed her hands, her fingers. "Please, Eleanor, say you will,"

She sat stock still, and stared down at him in shock. Too many things were whirling through her head. "That would make me queen one day," It was both a statement and a question.

"It...it would,"

"I'm not royalty, Hunter. I wouldn't know what to do," She swallowed. "Are you certain?"

"More than any time before in my life,"

"Then give me a few hours to think. I'll be here just after midnight and give you my answer then. Is that...is that all right?"

At her answer he smiled and pulled her to her feet. Together they stood, nose to nose, and he ever so gently pulled her mask aside. "It's perfect. I'll meet you here at midnight," He pressed a kiss to her lips, and one to each eyelid as her lashes fluttered down. "If you shan't marry me, then you must at least tell me where you've been. Agreed?"

Ella laughed and nodded. "Agreed,"

If the couple had been paying attention, they would have seen the figure lingering at the window. They would have noticed the way she paid too much attention, and narrowed her eyes as Ella's mask was pulled free. They might have hidden themselves better. Hunter may not have left Eleanor alone in the garden, with her beautiful dress and her tingling mouth. Eleanor may have tied her mask back in place, and fled to the anonymity of the crowd.

Instead, the young woman was alone with the darkness and her thoughts when hands descended on her. They covered her mouth to keep back a scream, and held tight to her arms and waist. Lady Tremaine stepped from the doorway as carefully as she could, always conscious of her clothes. "Tsk, tsk, Cinderella," Her stepmother taunted as her stepsisters dragged her toward a rented carriage. "You belong to me. A runaway servant is an offense worthy of whipping, did you know that?" Ella struggled in vain against the strong arms that held her, her eyes beseeching.

"Mother, how will she stay in the carriage? I don't want to leave the ball!" Drisella complained, pulling on Ella's hair. "We don't have anything to keep her here with!"

"Then just...put her to sleep for a while," Anastasia offered with a grunt. "Mother! Make her stop! She's going to tear my dress!"

"Ugh, this is ridiculous," Lady Tremaine rolled her eyes. "Let me,"

Ella hardly even had time for a muffled scream before Lady Tremaine's hand came down, and a burst of stars behind her eyes left only silent, still darkness in their wake.


	11. Chapter 11

"Is she dead, Mother? If you killed her then that means she can't make breakfast!"

Ella heard the voice before she felt the stab of pain radiating from her skull. Was that...Drisella?

"Mother, why won't she wake up? We had to carry her all the way up here!"

Anastasia? No, it couldn't be. She was safe from them! She was hidden she was...was...Eleanor groaned.

" _We_? I was the one dragging her up! You were merely playing with her hair!"

Could she move? The throbbing in her head protested even as she cautiously tried to open her eyes.

"You hit her head on just about every step!"

"Girls! Be silent!" A chill went down her spine. "I think our little runaway is coming to her senses,"

She opened her eyes to Lady Tremaine and her daughters peering down at her. With how bright her surroundings were, they'd either set the room on fire or it was well after dawn. She doubted they'd leave her to burn if they were still indoors. "W-where am I?" She shivered then, and onnly just managed to make out that what had once been a beautiful gown was nothing more than bits of lace, a few spare buttons and ruined cloth. The enchantment seemed to have faded for her clothes.

"Oh? You don't recognize your own home? I thought you cared more for the memory of your parents," Lady Tremaine declared with a sneer. Satisfied that her captive was still alive, she strained and smoothed down her skirt. "Now, what did you do with the gown you were wearing? Did you dispose of it? Leave a trail of silk behind you?" She bent down and lifted a shimmering piece of glass. Ella felt her heart clench. Her shoe! It was still intact, all glittering and rainbows. "All that you have is this one shoe?"

"You can't keep me here," Eleanor demanded. "It's...you've kidnapped me!" She managed to push herself up into a sitting position, and her fingers gently probed the knot on her forehead. "They'll come looking for me!"

"Who will? Your little friend? The guard? I don't think he's interested in such a filthy, title-less thing. There's a dress for you over there. Put it on and come make lunch. We've let you sleep nearly all day," She tossed the shoe aside where it clunked and rolled toward the wall. Drisella and Anastasia lifted their skirts and nearly pushed themselves down the stairs in their hurry to descend. "After we've eaten, we're going to discuss your behavior,"

"No," Ella said as she fought to stand.

Lady Tremaine paused at the door. "What did you say?"

"I will not be your slave," She was expecting the slap, but not the vicious look on her stepmother's face.

"I give you food. I give you a roof over your head. Do you realize I could have driven from this house the day your father died? Who else would take you in? You are and always will be nothing," The cruel woman spat, grabbing Ella by the hair. "If you won't work, you won't eat! Stay here for all I care!" With that she shoved Eleanor to the floor and left her alone. The young woman heard the key turning on the opposite side of the door and knew she was locked in once again. Would Lucinda be able to free her this time? With the tree gone, were the faeries gone as well?

Still, she gathered her strength and went to search out something a little warmer to wear. The dress her stepmother spoke of was one of her old ones, and thankfully it fully covered her. Mice had long since made a nest in the skirt of it, and as she pulled it over her head she found it full of holes. For the duration of the day Ella paced. Finally when she could stand it no longer she began to call for the mice of the house. They came in an instant, all of them fussing over her to such a degree that she found herself laughing. Her little friends had missed her! They nosed at her long hair and her tear-stained cheeks. They scampered along her arms and legs as she whispered her concern to them.

"You must find some way to tell the Prince where I am," She pleaded, kissing the tops of their heads. Their whiskers twitched as they considered it, then vanished back into the eaves of the chateu. Eleanor fit herself into a far, shadowy corner of the room with her lonesome glass slipper and whispered her prayers to the universe.

What Ella didn't know, was that the mice had listened. They'd looked feverishly for the squirrels, who passed the message along to the deer, who'd informed the foxes, who whispered along to the chickens, who in a fury informed every barnyard animal they came across. The animals of the castle knew of tender Furball's kindness and were infuriated to learn that she'd suffered such an injustice. In fact, the horses were in such an uproar that the royal guard was quite unable to contain them.

It had even drawn the attention of the Prince...

"Hunter, she's gone," Leopold said for the thousandth time. When Ella was missing from the garden in the morning, Hunter went straight to the kitchen. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was none other than the quiet Furball they'd rescued from the forest. Except, Furball wasn't there. Her things were, as neatly tidy as a handful of acorns, a white cloth and a large fur coat could be. But Furball was gone.

"Why would she do it a second time?" He murmured, staring at the golden ring in his palm. He'd been so convinced she would say yes! Or at least give him a reason when she said no... What possessed her to run away? "I can't go on like this, Leopold," He shoved the ring into his pocket. "Ask my parents who they like the best. I'll marry whoever they pick. You liked the girl in the swan costume, didn't you?"

"Hunter, you can't -"

"I am the Crown Prince!" He bellowed, forcing rage past the hurt. "Heir to the throne and only son of Queen Rosalyn the Wise!" He slammed his fist against a tree, and was showered in its leaves. "You cannot tell me what to do..."

"Hunter, you'll love another. I swear it. You'll...what on earth? Isn't that one of your hunting dogs?" He pointed to a hound as it loped into the garden. Its tail wagged tentatively. "Don't you normally keep the dogs contained?" Leopold said, crouching to receive something clutched in the dog's mouth. "From what I hear, all the animals have been acting strangely,"

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard one of the servants talking about chasing a fox from the hens. But it wasn't going after them. It almost looked like they were conversing," Leopold stroked behind the hound's ears. "Plus, your dog just brought me a glass shoe," He carried it to Hunter, who stared down at it in confusion.

"Glass...?"

"Mhm. It's not even scratched. Such a thing must be spelled to not break," Leo sighed. "Come on then, we'll go tell your parents...What's that look for?"

"This is her's," Hunter shook the glass slipper feverishly. "This belongs to Eleanor! I know it does! Someone must have taken her,"

"Slow down, that's a rather large jump to make for a shoe,"

"You don't know her as I do. I spent...I spent so many nights with her," His face clouded, his eyes darkened with anger. "I think I know who took her, but I have a more interesting way than just going to fetch her back," The Prince passed the glass shoe back to his friend. "Issue a proclamation. I will marry the woman who fits this shoe,"

Leopold laughed. "There are hundreds of eligible ladies! She won't be the only one to fit this!"

"She will," Hunter said, striding back toward the throne room. "Go. Have it written up. I have to speak to my parents,"


	12. Chapter 12

For three long, lonesome days Eleanor was left to herself in the attic. Each dawn Lady Tremaine came bearing a tray of hot food. One morning she was given a glimpse at her supposed breakfast: hot oats with a square of golden butter, and rich, dark sugar that hadn't yet been stirred in. Beside it was a small dish of sliced apples, and a poached egg. When Ella once again refused to be her slave, the whole lot was thrown out the window. Just the sound of ceramic shattering was enough to pull out tears. Were it not for the fruit and nuts the mice, birds and squirrels fed her she might have relented. The animals also looked tirelessly for Lucinda, but it seemed that the faeries were gone from the meadow.

"She'll come when I need her," Ella tried to reassure them as they nested in her hair. "Besides, the cook knows who I am. She might send someone to look for me," She stroked one of the squirrels beneath his chin, and ever so carefully broke the walnut it had brought to her in two. It gratefully took the other half and scampered into the eaves.

Even with the offered treats from the animals, her stomach was still an empty, aching pit. When, on the fourth day, Ella heard a commotion downstairs she was too weak to try and reason out the cause. Her stepsisters could be fighting again. Or Lady Tremaine was in a rage because she and her worthless daughters were still meant to cook and clean. Hugging her last shred of hope - a dazzling crystal shoe - ever closer, Eleanor tried to block the lot of it out.

 _"The Prince is coming here because he wants to marry me!"_ She heard Drisella screech. That certainly shook her awake. The Prince was coming? Now? She scrambled toward the door and pressed her ear against a hole in the floor. Around her the birds and mice quieted.

"You? You're nothing but a starving slob," Anastasia's snappy retort brought on a screech of its own. Most likely caused by a swift and brutal yanking of curls from her sister.

"And you're a sniveling child. Look at you! That's not something a lady would wear! Maybe Cinderella would like it," There was a smash of glass or crystal, and from there the fight only escalated.

"Girls, girls, no need to fight so. When one of you is married, we shall _all_ live in the castle. Won't you like that, Drisella darling? You could have two rooms if you'd like. One for just your dresses, even if you aren't crowned Princess," Ella tried desperately to hear her stepsister's response.

"And Anastasia, darling, if you aren't wed then you will certainly have an entire host of servants for your every whim. Won't that be lovely?"

Hurriedly Ella moved to where she'd hidden the glass shoe and strode purposely toward the window. If Hunter was coming here, she had to be certain he at least suspected where she was being held. Ever so carefully she tossed the shoe from the window. Even if the glass broke, the glimmering golden heel would remain. She tried the door again, struggling against the firm bolt and slumped against the wall. "Please," She begged the heavens, clasping her hands as if in prayer. "Lucinda, if you can hear me, please oh please let Hunter find me,"

* * *

"Hunter, I will literally murder you if she's not here," Leopold ground out, his back so straight in the saddle it was a wonder someone hadn't forced it that way. For days they'd worked side by side through the homes. If the women were too old, or married, or too young, they could thankfully pass by. Leopold wore the crown with an air of confidence and quickly evaporating patience. The women screamed. Some begged. Others silently wept when the footmen or guards tried to force the shoe onto their feet. They'd left home after home disheartened and exhausted.

"Do you threaten your Prince?" Hunter murmured under his breath, only half joking. The two men rode side by side as usual. Hunter had Leo's sword strapped to his hip. So far he'd only needed it once, when a man got too loud and too angry after his daughter was turned away. If he didn't find Eleanor at the Tremaine home he might just fall on it...

"No, I promise. I don't know of a soul that appreciates the Tremaine household," Leo jerked his horse to a halt and dismounted, mimicked quickly by the half dozen riders accompanying them. A pretty white mare stood quietly at the rear, her golden saddle empty of burden or rider. She shook her mane and pawed at the earth just as a mouse scrambled toward a large hedge. Hunter watched it go.

"Announcing his Highness, the Crowned Prince!" One of the guards called out, while another summoned the Tremaine household with a trumpet.

"Your grace, we hadn't expected you so soon," Lady Tremaine said as she sank into a curtsy. Her emerald gown was garish and much too opulent for a widowed woman and two girls. It also looked like it was attempting to sever her in two. "Won't you come in? My daughters are in the sitting room,"

"No one else is here?" Hunter asked before Leo could open his mouth. "No servants?"

Was that a scowl on the woman's face, or just her natural expression? "None, sir. We haven't found one yet up to our standards," She raised an eyebrow as Hunter sent men around the property: one toward the garden, others around the sides of the house and toward the backdoor. "Looking for something?"

"It's simply how we do things," He stated, deliberately leaving off her title. The older woman bristled and nodded before waving Leopold and two guards into the house.

It was Hunter who was truly looking for his beloved. He scoured homes and basements. There was not an attic left untended or a hole not thoroughly prodded. Yet still he hadn't found her. There were plenty of servants hidden out of sight, lest the shoe fit them. True to his word he brought each and every eligible woman to Leo and had the shoe attempted on their foot as well. Not one fit.

As he walked the perimeter of the home, he paused and looked around. Where had all these _mice_ come from? They scurried this way and that, not quite acting like a swarm but certainly out of the ordinary. Making sure that he wasn't seen he crouched down and held out his hand. One mouse, the tiniest and a soft, dove grey came forward to sniff at his fingers. "Is..." If Eleanor could speak with the animals, why couldn't he? "Is she here? Is Eleanor hiding here?"

Suddenly the mice seemed possessed. They scurried this way and that, squeaking to one another as they darted up the wall and under the hedges. Hunter kept still as they settled down, and ever so carefully watched as together, a group of no less than fifteen carried over a glass shoe with a golden heel. He took the prize in his hands and straightened. "Thank you." He shoved the shoe in the satchel swinging against his hip and marched inside to find two girls roughly as old as his Eleanor, but with enough makeup they looked as done up as their mother.

"Ah, Hunter! Who do you think should try first?" Leopold inquired, gesturing to the girls twittering amongst themselves.

"The one in the pink," He said, nodding at Drisella. She let out a squeal and leaped to her feet, just as Lady Tremaine reached out a hand.

"Ah, sir, I must speak with my daughter momentarily. She'll have no problem wearing her slipper. I just can't believe she lost it!" With that she was dragging the girl by the hand toward the kitchen. Hunter leaned down to whisper in his friend's ear.

"She's here. I found the other shoe. I believe they've kidnapped her. Keep them as long as possible," With that he and the several of the guards began to scour the house. The cellar was useless. There was merely canned fruits and vegetables, and several dozen bottles of cheap wine. When he returned to the sitting room, he was just in time to be astonished.

"Hunter..." Leopold said, clearing his throat. "Drisella Tremaine fits the shoe," He pointed to where Drisella stood, somewhat shakily, with the shoe snuggly fit over her stocking. He felt his mouth open, but nothing came out.

"T-that's impossible. It's enchanted, I know it is," The Prince swallowed. "I don't - "

A pigeon alighted in the window sill and turned its head this way and that, staring at Drisella all the while. Finally the bird opened its beak and - _Blood on the shoe. Blood on the shoe._ It cooed. Hunter frowned and pulled at his ear. Had he heard right? _Blood on the shoe. Blood on the shoe,_ it said again. Hunter now took a careful look at Drisella. Her color was terrible, and tears ran freely down her cheeks.

"No. It isn't her. There's blood on the shoe. She damaged her foot to force it in," It took everything in him not to demand Eleanor's location, but he was quite sure he would find her sooner rather than later. "Try her sister, and then we'll be on our way," For nearly ten minutes he tore through the house, moving chairs and tables and tossing out the contents of the pantry. If she wasn't in plain sight, then she had to be hidden.

"Who searched the tower?" He finally asked as the men assembled around him. Guilty faces exchanged looks, and it was almost a relief to hear the next statement.

"Sir...we...we can't find a way in," One of them finally said. "Not one of us,"

"Then that's where she is. Search the walls,"

Hunter heard a whimper from the other room, and Leopold's outraged accusations, but this time he ignored them. His fingers probed the walls until finally he pushed aside a large tapestry and discovered a door set into the wall. He tore the fabric from its hooks and tossed it in a heap on the floor. "Here, men! Here!" Although the panel was missing a handle, it wasn't hard to force it open with his sword. Although he took the steep stairs two at a time, he was hardly winded when he reached the summit.

"Eleanor!" He cried, yanking uselessly at the handle. "Eleanor! Are you there?"

Ella thought she was dreaming. Certainly that wasn't Hunter's voice on the other side of the door. Certainly that wasn't his fists beating against the wood. "H-Hunter?" She murmured, stumbling over her own feet. "Hunter is that you?"

"Yes! Yes! Men, arrest the ladies of the house! Eleanor, I'm here my love! I'm here!" She heard the door crack as something was thrown against it, and stepped back twice. Splinters of wood flew across the room as the door was brought down and Hunter swept her into his arms. "My lovely, lovely Eleanor. You're safe now. You're safe," He lifted her into his arms and fairly ran down the stairs with her, just in time to see shackles on the wrists of Lady Tremaine and her daughters.

"How dare you! She is my servant, and I can do with her as I wish!" The woman screeched as Drisella and Anastasia wailed. Puddles of blood surrounded their feet.

"What on earth did you do to them?" Ella demanded, horrified, as the bloodied glass slipper was taken for a thorough washing.

"She ah, she lopped off part of each foot. Her heel is gone," Leopold said as he pointed to Drisella. "We bandaged it, but she'll always have a limp. That one is now missing her entire big toe," Anastasia was sobbing grotesquely.

"Lady Tremaine, you are hereby stripped of your title and your property," Hunter said, setting Ella on a chair. Her stepmother could barely put words together to sputter. "You will be tried for attempted murder and insanity,"

"Who do you think you are? Rising above your station! Trying to -"

That was Leopold's cue to step in. Already horrified at what this mother had done to her daughters, he swapped Hunter's crown for his sword and stepped between the Prince and the deranged woman. "You will _not_ speak to the Prince in such a manner! Am I understood?"

"B-but are you not the Prince? You...everyone thinks -"

"Everyone thinks exactly as I want them to," Hunter said, taking the cleaned shoe from Leopold and kneeling in front of Ella. The young woman felt her heart pounding as he slipped the shoe back onto her foot...and then pulled the second from his bag. "There you are, my lady. Your property is returned,"

Lady Tremaine let out a senseless cry and fell to the floor in a faint. The guards carried her from the house and gently escorted Drisella and Anastasia away as well, leaving only Leopold, Hunter and Eleanor. The three sat quietly in her father's old sitting room, allowing silence to claim them once more.

"I've spoken to my parents, Eleanor. They encouraged me to find you, and say that it doesn't matter if you're royal or not," Hunter reached out to take her hand. "You'll never be hurt again. We can, we can call the gypsies back! We can make this home a home for them, so that they always have somewhere comfortable to come back to,"

"Ella," She said, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears. She lifted her eyes from her lap and met his, although it was difficult to see through her tears. "If I'm to be your wife, then just call me Ella,"

The wedding was a full week later.

Lucinda made an appearance with a wave of her wand and a smile, and many of the birds that kept her company when she was a child worked with the fairy to clothe her in a gossamer, white gown. Her hair was brushed free, to shimmer and shine around her shoulders, and as the procession made its way from the castle toward the chapel, the birds alighted on her shoulders.

So it was when her stepsisters rushed her, they quite easily pecked out one eye apiece. Drisella and Anastasia howled and screamed as they vanished back into the crowd, somehow disappearing from sight. When they rushed at her again, and lost their other eyes, they fell in a useless heap of moaning and despair.

Later Ella would learn of her the fate of her stepfamily. She would learn that her stepmother was employed in the castle laundry, dying linen purple and green and blue. Her stepsisters, she discovered, were kept under close watch in a nunnery some hundreds of miles away where they muttered only to one another, forever lost to the darkness that had become their world.

As for Cinderella and her Prince, they lived a long and happy life. They ruled fairly, and welcomed the gypsies for many a holiday. The animals of the kingdom were more highly regarded, and gifts for fairies became as common as shining teeth for the Tooth Mouse. They surrounded themselves with children, and passed the story of Cinderella and her glass slipper to them. Who passed it along to their children. And their children's children. Who have passed it now along to you. Although the story may have changed for them, one thing remains ever the same.

**THEY LIVED HAPPILY FOREVER AFTER**


End file.
